Seductive Darkness
by xxlostdreamerxz
Summary: Severitus Challenge! Travel through an era of secrets, anger, forbidden magic, and lies. During the summer, Harry encounters a brush with death, with curtasy from the Dursleys. He escapes to knockturn Alley, and begins his training... No Slash. RR
1. Prologue

**Seductive Darkness**

**By: xxlostdreamerxz  
**

**Note: **There is no slash in this fic.

**Serevitus Challenge**: Travel through an era of secrets, anger, forbidden magic, and lies. A part of Harry dies over the summer, he returns to Hogwarts a completely changed man/ 6th year. No Slash. R/R

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Gleaming emerald eyes flickered through the darkness. It was midnight, witching hour, the time where darkness walks the earth. A bitter smile touched his frigid, unused lips. The fact remained, that he was alone, the ones he'd once considered 'family' had deserted him...had left him...to die. After all, he had been nothing but an idol, the so called hero of the wizarding world. They were afraid of him, his power, his fame, especially his destiny. Even the almighty Dumbledore feared him to a certain degree. He was alone...always alone... 

Dream

The air was thick with tension, as dark shadows and fog loomed about capriciously. Strangely enough, Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly where he was. For most of his dreams resulted in some repulsive actions done by the one and only Voldemort, but not this time...it was different...too different...

Harry's eyes darted nervously about the shadows and he unknowingly searched for something...or someone. To tell you the truth, he felt slightly defenseless without his wand, therefore incapable of any from of survival. His past experiences with Voldemort still haunted him to this very day.

Out of the blue, a heavily cloaked man stepped out of the shadows. Harry whirled around to face his opponent, and froze. "Harry...come here..." Hesitantly, Harry took a step forward. The man resembled a death eater, the dark robes, black cloak, white mask. And yet, strangely enough, he felt as if he could trust the man...

"My boy...I'm sorry...I have failed you..." he whispered, enveloping Harry in a tight embrace. "If only...I hadn't...been...such a..." he struggled to suppress the raging emotions that were bound to surface.

"An idiot?" finished Harry, looking at the man curiously. Mentally shook his head, 'God! I'm having a decent conversation with a death eater! What in the hell is going on!' he thought in wonder. Harry half expected the man to curse him, however he wasn't prepared seeing the man chuckling at him.

"My son...my boy...remember...this," he said with a soft shake of his head, "That I've always loved you...remember that..." his eyes darkened slightly, as he clasped Harry's hand tightly. "Promise me..." he said urgently, as he began to fade... "Promise me...that you'll understand...and not forget what your heart was made for..."

"But...but...who are you?" asked Harry completely bewildered. A death eater had just pronounced him as his son. "What is going on!"

"You will find out...when the time is right..." There was a small pause. "Don't forget...your...promise..."

"I...I...swear it..." whispered Harry, not knowing why he agreed. Slowly the mist began to clear...and the man was gone...

End of Dream

It was a typical morning at Privet Drive. The sun had just risen and was now shining brightly down upon Aunt Petunia's flowerbeds. A lone oak tree stood near the side garden a few feet away from the elegantly painted walls of the house. It exuded the epitome of normalcy, after all, it was an ordinary house...wasn't it?

A small figure lay sprawled upon the dusty, peeling whitewashed floor of an enclosed cupboard. The boy had a head full of messy black hair and a pair of thick black glasses that lay a few feet away from his outstretched arm. Under his slightly long bangs lay a mysterious lightning shaped scar. Said scar that had cursed him to a life of fear and isolation.

Harry Potter knew that he didn't have any true friends. His entire life had been based upon a lie, for he knew in his heart that his friends wouldn't even hesitate to desert him if they discovered the truth. If they ever learned that he wasn't the Golden Boy everyone claimed he was. He had never wanted his fame, never wanted anything except love and acceptance.

However the events that occurred during the past few weeks destroyed everything. Dumbledore was not the kind and innocent headmaster that he'd once known. Instead he was a manipulator, one that controlled the school with a subtle form of dictatorship. The students and staff were nothing more then pawn to him, and sometimes a sacrifice was necessary. A sacrifice that Harry would never forgive the headmaster for...

Sirus, his loving godfather, the closest thing he'd ever had to a family was gone. Dead...by both Dumbledore and Voldemort's hand. True, he shared his amount of guilt on the subject, however it was only partially his fault. Had Dumbledore ever bothered telling him about the prophesy or about why he needed to learn Occlumancy, none of this might have happened. Dumbledore had always told him enough to survive, but not enough for him to truly live.

He truly had no reason left to live...not anymore. The Dursleys would be ecstatic if he fell over and died. Hell, he was fairly sure that no one would care if he was dead. The wizarding world might mourn for him, since he was the epitome of hope and goodness. In truth, they'd be mourning for themselves, for with his death, Voldemort would be unstoppable. There was no one he trusted, no one that actually knew him. For his facade of the bloody savior was working fairly well.

Harry's eyes darkened slightly with anger. He knew the true reason why Dumbledore had insisted that he should live with the Dursleys. The bloody headmaster wanted him to develop sympathies towards Muggles, therefore insuring his position in the war with the Light. However things didn't exactly go as planned. Harry Potter, had grown up unloved and abused by his relatives.

With a small wince, Harry lifted himself up into and sitting position and leaned heavily against the wall. His left arm was twisted at an odd angle, while his bare arms were literally covered with dark purple bruises and angry red welts. His eyes glazed over slightly in pain, as he stared down at himself.

Last night, Uncle Vernon had arrived home late last night madly drunk. He had insisted that Harry had used his 'freakish behavior' to cause him to get laid off by his boss. Every day single day was a repeat of the last, save for the occasional punch by his 'loving' whale of a cousin Dudley. Wasn't his life just grand?

Harry looked up when he heard Aunt Petunia's shrill voice screeching at him to get up. At that he quickly fumbled around trying to force himself to stand. "Coming Aunt Petunia," he replied obediently as he hobbled painfully through the opened door. The minute he entered the kitchen he was greeted by a 'good morning' punch from Dudley and a deadly frying pan thrown towards him. Reluctantly he sighed, 'It appeared as if everything was in place.'

"FREAK! GET HURRY UP AND COOK BREAKFAST FOR MY DUDDLERS!" screeched his long necked aunt, as she shook her frying pan threateningly. "NOW! YOU BLASTED FREAK!" she hissed, as Harry hobbled over as quickly as his feet could carry him. He released a cry of pain when she struck out with the pan right at his broken arm.

"DON'T MAKE A SOUND YOU FREAK! ARE YOU TRYING TO ALERT THE NEIGHBORS!" she shrilled angrily, not knowing that she was the one that making all the racket. "AFTER ALL WE'VE DONE FOR YOU! THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US!" Aunt Petunia's eyes were red with anger. "WE FED YOU! WE GAVE YOU CLOTHES! WE GAVE YOU A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD! OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF OUR HEARTS!"

"What's going on here?" hissed Uncle Vernon, his tiny eyes bloodshot. His usually pokey pink skin had a slight yellow glean to it. Harry gulped in fear. His Uncle was currently experiencing a hangover, a dreadfully horrible one from the looks of it. And from experience, his Uncle hated being woken up during a Saturday morning, especially by loud noises. Since he obviously couldn't blame his wife, it seemed as if Harry was in quite an unlucky position.

"Vernon! The boy is trying to expose his 'freakiness' to the neighbors!" she cried looking horrified. "First he refused to cook breakfast for my Duddlers! Then he screams when I hit him! What if the neighbors find out!"

At that Uncle Vernon's eyes budged furiously making him resemble a mad bull. "YOU..." he hissed, pointing a finger towards Harry as he advanced towards him. With a hard punch he roared, "I SWEAR YOU'LL PAY!" as he began his onslaught of attacks upon the poor boy. Without his wand, Harry was fairly defenseless. Not to mention he was already severely injured.

"YOU...WILL...LEARN...YOUR PLACE...FREAK!" spat Uncle Vernon between blows, with a smirk he slammed his foot against Harry's stomach. Causing Harry sputter out blood, which accidentally dripped upon his Uncle's shoes. If possible, Uncle Vernon's eyes widened in shock before be kicked out towards Harry again. "YOU BLOODY BASTARD!" he roared, not noticing the pool of blood that Harry was lying in. "HOW DARE YOU!"

Harry's breathing was ragged and uneven, however his emerald green eyes glared solemnly black towards his uncle. However, the gesture just seemed to infuriate his uncle even more. Blood spattered through the air as the beefy man once again began torturing his nephew. He almost sighed in relief as his uncle stalked away towards the closet. 'I'm safe...' he thought calmly, trying to get to his feet. Harry winced in pain, it seemed as if he'd broken his arm somehow.

However his joy was short lived, for his uncle had drawn out a thin deadly rifle from deep within the confinements of the cupboard. Uncle Vernon and Dudley both shared a similar passion for hunting, in more ways then one. His uncle enjoyed the sport of hunting poor defenseless animals, while Dudley preferred beating up younger kids. Their great ardor for inflicting pain often resulted in a father and son bonding moment when they went 'Harry Hunting.'

His uncle's eyes were sparkling with maniacal glee as he loaded the riffle eagerly. Harry saw stars, there was something wet on his hand. He looked closer, blood...so much blood. He hadn't expected Uncle Vernon to attack him, he thought that his Uncle's fear of his 'friends' would save him. But he was wrong...something just never change...

Uncle Vernon returned shortly, with his hunting rifle. He turned towards Dudley, "Come here Dudley," he said calmly, his eyes betraying his sadistic intent. "I'll show you how to use this," he said, holding the riffle possessively.

"But...Dad...what am I suppose to shoot at?" asked Dudley stupidly.

A slow yet cruel smile slowly spread across his face. Uncle Vernon pointed his finger at the crumpled figure lying on the floor. "Him..." A matching smile lit Dudley's face. "Alright!"

Harry's eyes widened in fear and horror. His own Uncle was going to murder him! No, cross that, his Uncle and Cousin were going 'Harry Hunting.' It was ironic, the fact that he was going to be murdered by his own blood. By muggles nerveless.

"Here's what you do," said Uncle Vernon holding the rifle against his shoulder. "First you make sure that it's loaded," he stated, waiting for Dudley to nod. "Then you aim and fire..." He patted Dudley on the back, "Make your father proud..."

Almost like as if in slow motion, Dudley raised the rifle and positioned it a few feet from Harry. Basically it was impossible to miss, especially after Uncle Vernon corrected his aim, and positioned it right between Harry's eyes.

"Are you ready freak!" whispered Uncle Vernon, "Now, you get to pay us back for all those years..."

Dudley's finger slowly pressed the triggered, and a loud bang resounded through the house.

Harry watched as the bullet travel towards him, "NOOOOO!' he screamed, as a burst of power exploded from him, causing the bullet to melt in the process. In that blinding flash off light, Harry Potter disappeared...


	2. Dark Discoveries

**Seductive Darkness**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP.**

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Harry winced as he slammed harshly against the street. His mind was swimming with pain, his eyes widened in shock as he stared down at his clothes. His usual baggy hand-me downs were soaked with blood...not just anyone's blood...his own blood.

"Great...just great..." he murmured sarcastically, not noticing the almost Snape-like scowl present on his face. Harry tilted his head up to survey his surroundings, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

It seemed as if he'd fallen into some sort of dark, dingy alleyway, with ancient, dusty shops. On closer inspection, Harry would have been convinced that he'd plunged into a world dedicated to some of the most horrific Halloween decorations.

"Why does it feel like I've been here before?" he asked questioningly, as he tried to help himself up. Harry released a cry of pain, when he moved. It seemed as if he now harbored a broken arm, sprained ankle, and broken glasses.

He bit his lips nervously. It was obviously that he couldn't stay here all night, for all he knew, death eaters might arrive any second to murder him.

A soft hoot nearby caught his attention. "Hedwig?" he whispered softly, almost as if he couldn't believe his luck. "What are you doing here girl?" he asked gently, as Hedwig fluttered down right in front of him.

"How did you get out?" Hedwig shot him a puzzled look, and hooted in confusion. Harry frowned, "And...how did you get here so fast? I could have sworn that I just arrived a few minutes ago..."

Hedwig fluffed up her feathers proudly, and shot a look at something behind his back. As it so seemed, all of Harry's possession had disappeared from the Dursleys and where now right beside him.

Harry gasped in shock, "What in the name of Merlin happened?" he whispered panicky. The last thing he'd remembered was Dudley pointing a rifle at him...and then a blinding flash of light. It was impossible, he hadn't learned how to Apparate yet...by all means, he should have be dead.

Things were getting too strange for his liking, not to mention the fact that he was currently in unknown territory. On top of that, he was feeling slightly dizzy, almost as if he wanted to do nothing more then submit into darkness.

Unconsciously, Harry shook his head trying to clear his mind. "Hedwig? Find someone...please...I...need help...someone that we could trust...I don't...think I can stay...awake...any longer..."

Instantly, in a flurry of feathers, Hedwig nodded and disappeared. A few moments later, Harry felt the encompassing walls of darkness well up upon him, and he submitted, falling into a deep death-like slumber.

At Hogwarts, the staff were currently enjoying a peaceful, quiet breakfast when a loud rumble shook the castle and tossed it about as if it was nothing but a toy. To top that off a shrill alarm went off, and began flashing a luminous red light.

Professor McGonagall was the first to recover. "ALBUS! WHAT IS GOING ON!" she yelled turning to face Dumbledore, with a furious yet panicked expression. Her frown deepened when she noticed the twinkle missing from the headmaster's eyes.

"We have to go now..." he stated calmly, his voice hard and certain that no one dared oppose him. "Harry's in trouble..."

"Potter?" snorted Snape, his lips curling into it's usual sneer. "What's Golden Boy done this time?" Professor McGonagall shot him a nasty look. "Give me one reason Albus, why I'd even bother trying to help Potter...much less save his pathetic ass." He stated, furiously straightening his robes, which had wrinkled slightly during the 'Earthquake.'

"BECAUSE HE'S A STUDENT!" hissed McGonagall furiously, "WE ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR HIM, YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THE RISKS THAT HE'S UNDER!" That shut Snape up, however Dumbledore quickly cut in.

"In that case, let's go..."

In that instance, the entire Hogwarts staff walked as one to the Apparation point and disappeared...to the dark alleyway near Privet Drive. From a distance, it would appear as if the three solitary figures marching furiously towards Privet Drive. Then again, that's was their plan.

A lone house stood apart from the rest, brightened by a single light of hope...or death.

"Is that number four?" whispered Professor McGonagall, looking apprehensive at the towering house. The whole house gave off an aura of darkness, anger, and pain...almost as if...someone...had been...killed...

"Yes..." murmured Dumbledore softly, his eyes dark with worry.

Snape gave the house through stare. "Well...it doesn't look that horrible..." he stated stiffly, as much as he hated to, he had to agree with Professor McGonagall. The house reminded him of Voldemort...

Dumbledore hesitated slightly before knocking on the door. In his heart, he knew that something had happened to Harry, something horrible. He lowered his eyes in shame. Years ago, he had promised Lily and James that he would protect Harry with his life.

And yet, he was alive...and there was a chance...that Harry...was...DEAD...he had failed him...he had broken his promise...

At that moment, the door slammed open with a sickening crunch, and a large, beefy, purple-face man stood menacingly before them. "WHAT DO YOU WANT!" he screamed, spraying spittle all over the three professor's faces.

It wasn't until Uncle Vernon was slammed against the wall, that he realized his mistake. "Your...his...kind..." he stuttered, pointing his finger at his 'attackers.' "You're freaks! Just like him! Stay away from me!"

Snape obviously didn't take kindly of being called a freak. 'It's a wonder that Potter didn't hex them already.' At that moment, he felt a tiny surge of guilt, which he quickly suppressed. This...'Muggle' was getting on his nerves, and it had only been here for a few seconds.

Naturally, Dumbledore came to the rescue. "I assume that you are Vernon Dursley?" he inquired politely, causing Uncle Vernon to stuttered with anger. "We are looking for your nephew...Harry Potter."

At those words, Vernon turned a sickly shade of green. It appeared as if he was reliving his worst nightmare. "I...don't...know who...you're...talking about..." he stammered, his tiny eyes darting about for some sort of escape.

McGonagall frowned heavily, "We won't repeat ourselves again," she snapped furiously. Although she'd never admit it, Harry Potter happened to be one of her favorite students. "WHERE...IS...HARRY...POTTER!" she hissed, emphasizing each word.

If possible, Vernon's face paled even more. "He's gone...that damn freak...he...deserved everything..."

At that Snape raised his eyebrows, "What did you do to him?" he asked, shooting Vernon his deadliest glare which could evenly match that of Voldemort's. Technically, Vernon knew better then to disobey him...

"Weshothim..." he murmured quickly, hoping that they didn't catch his words.

Dumbledore paled slightly. "Could you...please...repeat that again..." he asked softly, his eyes were heavy with pain and guilt. When Vernon refused to answer, Snape drew out a potion, something that resembled Veritaserum.

"Drink..." Vernon shot him a panicked look. "I'm...not...thirsty..."

Something in Snape snapped, as he shoved the potion into Vernon's mouth and forced him to drink it. It was pitiful, the Muggle was obviously heavier then Snape, however he was made of layers of fat. "Blasted Pig of a Muggle..." he growled, after releasing Vernon who sat there looking dazed.

"What happened to Harry Potter?"

"We...shot him..." murmured Vernon, his black eyes were blank and empty.

"WHAT!" screeched all three professor's jumping up in fury.

"We...shot him..." he repeated obediently.

"How...could you do that to your own blood?" whispered McGonagall, her lips tightening to a thin white line. Her hand was clenching her wand tightly, as if she wished to curse him. "Why did you do it?"

"He was a freak...a...menace to the world...we should have...murdered him...when he was...a baby. He...is a waste...of space...He didn't deserve to live..."

"Are you saying...that you...never spoiled him..." asked Snape slowly. He couldn't believed it! All these years, he had been wrong, Potter lived in hell...he wasn't the egoistic being that he imagined.

"Of course we did! We gave actually allowed 'IT' to live in our cupboard! We actually gave 'IT' food! By all means, he didn't deserve any of it! He should have been thrown into the streets!"

At those words Snape jumped up, and was just about ready to slam his fist into the muggle's face. He knew that he'd never been fond of Potter, but this was ridiculous! Even he wouldn't treat a child so...horribly! Much to his disappointment, Dumbledore reached out clenched his shoulder.

"Not now Severus...we need to finish questioning him," he stated with forced calm, "We can deal with him later...but Harry is our main priority." Snape nodded, and sat back reluctantly, however sneer at Vernon so coldly that he even flinched in his daze.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know...he disappeared in a flash of light..."

The professors exchanged nervous looks. The same thought was flashing through their mind, 'Could it have been the Avada Kedavra?" If something happened to Harry...they wouldn't be able to forgive themselves.

"What color was the light?"

"It...was white...pure...light..."


	3. Snakes

**Seductive Darkness**

**By**: xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP. **

* * *

Harry moaned in pain, as he reluctantly opened his eyes and sat up. He blinked in surprise.

It appeared as if he was in a dark masculine room, with dark wooden flooring, and elegant yet simple bed. To his right was an exquisitely carved desk, with figures of snakes wound about the legs, beyond that was the crackle of a cheery fire. In front of the fireplace stood a velvet green armchair, which was supported upon the back of a delicate black spider-spun rug.

The walls bore a light tan giving off the impression of the western days. There were two windows, one facing the North, the other facing the East which would obviously present a gorgeous view of the sunrise.

He looked down at himself and was surprised to find that the majority of his injuries had healed. The only exception was that his muscles hurt like hell, and he had cramps everywhere.

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Obviously he hadn't been taken prisoner, the room was too elegant unlike the prison that he'd obviously imagined. Nervously he slowly removed himself from bed, and tiptoed around the perimeter of the room.

As he did, he noticed a door to his left that he'd foolishly missed. Harry mentally scolded himself before cautiously inching towards the door. 'After all...expect the unexpected...' he thought mockingly.

After all, for all he knew, Death Eaters might be outside planning his demise. He chuckled softly, "Been there...done that..." as he swung open the door, to reveal a shocked looking man in his late forties.

Harry studied the man curiously. "Who are you?" he blurted out, unaware of how rude he was being.

The man was tall, around 5'7'' and had an aura of power and status. His eyes were bright blue, the color of lightening, while his hair was a distinct shade of brown. His robes were obviously well made, since it appeared as if it was made out of silk.

"I would like to ask you the same..." he drawled out slowly, staring uncertainly at Harry. "I've never seen you before...and I know everyone that's ever entered Knockturn Alley..."

"I'm...err...from the States," Harry replied quickly, trying to regain his composure. It was just great, he was in enemy territory, if he didn't put up an act, he was sure to be doomed. He quickly adopted a Malfoy-like expression, "I apologize for my earlier actions," he stated calmly, "I have to admit, I've been rather jumpy the past few days."

"Apology accepted," snapped the man stiffly. "My name is Dimitri Borgin..." he stated holding out his hand to Harry. "I'm in charge of the Black Serpent Hotel."

"My name is James Evans," replied Harry, praying that his bangs could cover his scar. "It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Borgin."

"Likewise," he answered, with a quick nod. "I assume that you are looking for a place to stay," he asked calmly, waiting for Harry to nod in confirmation. "If you wish, you could keep your current room."

Harry's jaw dropped slightly, with shock. "May I question how much it would cost, Mr. Borgin?" he managed to stutter out.

"Dimitri," he supplied angrily, "I don't like being mistaken for that dim-wit half-brother of mine," he growled, before realizing that he'd been asked a question. "Since your suite is undoubtedly high class, it would quite expensive. I think it would be reasonable to say that it would be around 58 gallons and 7 sickles per month."

A slow smile broke across Harry's face, "You've out yourself a deal Mr.Bor...err...Dimitri," he said cheerfully. "But, I was wondering whether it might be possible to and another room to my suite..." he asked tentative, uncertain how Dimitri might react.

"May I ask what's wrong with your room?" asked Dimitri, his eyes were as hard and unforgiving as stone. "Is there something that you don't like?"

"Oh no! I love the room," replied Harry quickly, "But I was wondering whether it's possible for you to and a training arena to it..." Harry stared at Dimitri nervously, almost as if he knew he'd been turned down.

Harry had no idea why, but for some reason he trusted him. It was foolish though, trusting someone who worked in Knockturn alley...but what was done, was done. Besides, it was the only possible place for him to practice magic without the constantly being attacked by the Ministry.

"Alright, Mr. Evans," he replied somewhat reluctantly, "However it would cost you 20 more gallons per month."

"Deal!" said Harry, as they shook on it.

"In that case, my I ask where my trunk and owl are?" Harry asked after a moment of silence.

Dimitri jerked out his wand and pointed it towards the far left wall, "Accio Trunk, and owl." Sudden a trapdoor opened, and out flew a snowy white owl and a large battered trunk. At that, Dimitri turned towards Harry and muttered, "Enjoy your stay Mr. Evans..." before walking away.

Harry blinked, "That was interesting..." he muttered soundlessly to himself. He turned towards Hedwig, and was surprised to see her eyeing him nervously...almost as if she didn't recognize him.

"Hedwig? Are you alright?" he asked, looking concerned. "It's me...Harry..." Hedwig shot him an uncertain and skeptical look. "Come on girl, it's alright, we're safe now. The Dursleys can't find us here..." At those words Hedwig visibly calmed.

'She was just a bit ratted, that's all...' he thought to himself, 'I still look just the same...it isn't because she didn't recognize me'

Harry quickly opened his trunk and pulled out his wand, and then turning towards his fluffy white friend. "Hedwig?" he said softly, "Do you think you could stay here for now? Please?" he begged when Hedwig shot him a hesitant glace. Reluctantly Hedwig gave a hoot of agreement and settled herself on his bed-stand."

"I'll be back soon..." he whispered, before walking tensely out of the safety of the Hotel.

The street was narrow and dark, the shops around here naturally seemed as if they sold the darkest, and cruelest forms of the arts. A few months ago, Harry would have been scared to death, but now he only felt mildly curious.

So far, he'd always been protected and sheltered by Dumbledore and the rest of the staff who all insisted that the Dark Arts were evil. But, for some unknown reason, Harry disagreed with them.

'Dark Arts are only evil, depending upon the purpose they are used,' he thought sternly, dismissing all thoughts of Dumbledore's lectures to the back of his mind. He wasn't a child anymore, and Dumbledore had no right to "shield" him from the world. He was his own person, and could make his own choices.

It was due to Dumbledore protection that the only fatherly figure he had was gone...dead... After that, Harry hadn't quite ever forgiven the headmaster. If he had a chance, he would do anything to change history, he wanted Sirus back...

Harry stopped suddenly, as if struck by a premonition. He looked up and saw a swaying sign that said, " Dark Creatures." Something was pulling at him, telling him that he had to go in. He shrugged his shoulders lightly and entered. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

The moment he entered, Harry was gaping in disbelief. A huge black snake, large enough to rival Nagini in size, and it was by far, more beautiful. It had dark black scales that shone like diamonds, and a set of pearl white fangs.

But the thing that caused him to freeze in shock, was the fact that ten wizards had surrounded it, and were trying to paralyze it. Obviously the snake was putting up a great fight, it's scales seems similar to that of a dragon since it repelled the spell.

Hesitantly, Harry drew up his hood, just in case. "STOP!" he snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. At that moment, all 11 pairs of eyes focused themselves upon him.

"May I ask what you're doing?" he whispered, his voice dripping with anger. "I find that snake quite beautiful, and wish to purchase it. However, that might be hard to do if it is murdered..."

The ten wizards shivered with fear, something was definitely out of place. "But...sir...the snake is dangerous...it's impossible to control it. I...mean...just look...at it!" stammered one of the wizards. "Surely you'd want another pet?" he asked calmly, his eyes trained upon the snake, in case it decided to attack.

Harry raised his eyes and met the unblinking one the snake. "No, I want him..." he replied not bothering to remove his glaze.

"But sir...we can't...give him to you...we can't even...subdue him..."

"No matter," he said calmly, waving his hand dismissively. "I will take care of that. How much does he cost?"

"He...costs 37 gallons and 4 sickles. And...if you could...get him out...by yourself...we'll throw in...a year supply of food, and two...books about...how...to properly take care of him..."

"Very well..." said Harry, throwing them a bag. "Bring me my things..." he ordered, waiting for the wizards to scramble out to get his supplies. Slowly he stepped closer as hissed:

_'doo youu wiiissh to coome wiiith mee?'_ The snake blinked in surprise, obviously it wasn't expecting this.

_'yoou speeak ouur toonguee yoouung onee. May I ask...whoo..yooouu...are...?'_

_'My...name...is Harry...Potter...' _ At that moment Harry's head jerked up in surprised, '_Please...be...silent...they...know not...of my gift..."_ He begged looking nervously at the snake who nodded slowly in agreement.

"Sir? Here you go..." the manager stated quickly, shrinking the items and shoving them into a bag. "Now...could you...please...get it out of here?" he asked, biting his lips so hard that it was bleeding.

"As you wish," Harry muttered softly, before turning towards the snake. "Come, we have to go..." he said waiting to see whether or not the snake understood. After a moment's pause, the snake slowly slid around his waist, and wrapped itself around his neck.

The manager and the remaining wizards gapping at him in something similar to shock and fear, and he slowly made his way out of the shop.


	4. Serpentine Selections

**Seductive Darkness**

**By: xxlostdreamerxz**

**Disclaimer:**No, I do not own HP.

* * *

A small smile bloomed upon Harry's face as he strolled out of the Dark Creature's Shop. He rolled his eyes playfully, 'So much for stealth and secrecy,' he thought casually. Most likely, by the end of the day, there would be tons of rumors about the so called, 'Snake Tamer...'

As it so seemed, Knockturn Alley was devoid of the usual mass of dark robes and power-hungry wizards during the day. They were clearly afraid at the prospect of getting caught by the Ministry. As painstaking as it seemed, after all this time, Fudge had finally accepted the fact that Voldemort had returned.

Cautiously, Harry checked that the street was empty, and walked off towards a secluded alleyway. He peered down at the snake, who was obviously getting annoyed.

"._..sorry...about that..." he hissed gently, "...most wizards...don't...react...well...with my...gift..._"

The snake shot him a brooding look and hissed with a rather grumpy expression. "...you...are forgiven..." Harry blinked in surprise. He had never met a snake with mood swings before.

"_...may...I ask...what...your...name is?_" questioned Harry with a hint of curiosity.

"_...a...name?...what...is...this 'name'...that...you speak of..._"

Harry thought for a second, unable to come up with a decent answer. "_...a name...is...something...that...you...are called.._." he answered a bit pathetically, "_...it...is what...makes...everyone...unique..." _

_"...unique?...what...is...your...name...young one?"_ inquired the snake, tilting it's head curious manner.

_"...my...name...is Harry..."_ he answered calmly, lifting his bright emerald green eyes slightly to stared unblinkingly into dark onyx ones. After a moment of thought he asked, "...would...you...like a...name?"

The snake nodded it's head vigorously, _"...yes..." _

"_...umm...how...about...Astus,_" hissed Harry suddenly, "._..is...that...acceptable...?_"

"_...Astus..._" he hissed, trying out the word. If snakes could smile, Astus definitely was. "_...I...like it..._" he stated, "_...but...what...does it...mean?_"

Harry released a soft chuckle, as he ran his fingers down Astus's hard glimmering black scales. _" It...means...cunning one...in...Latin..." _he replied gently. _"...I...have...always...thought...that...snakes...enjoyed...being cunning..." _

Astus flickered it's tongue, _"...that...is quite...true...young one,...if we...were...not...cunning...we...would...not...survive..."_

_"...I...understand..." _whispered Harry, a solemn look pasted upon his face.

_"...you...have been...through...quite a lot...young one..." _hissed Astus, his eyes flashing red momentarily. _"...I...see a lot...of pain...anger...and...fear...in...you..." _

Not knowing what to say, Harry nodded reluctantly._ "...you...see...correctly..." _he stated, before his eyes widened in surprise. _"...how...did you...know...that?" _

Astus smirked lightly,_ "...it is our...gift...my...blood...have...always...been...able...too...see into...one's heart...and...discover...their...true...intentions..." _

_"...so...tell...me...more...about...your...kind..."_ he asked with a hint of wonder. However he was cut off by a loud bang nearby. As it so appeared, the backdoor of one of the shops slammed open. In it's place stood a short, porky man with dark oily hair, and small black eyes.

"BOY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" snapped a dark oily haired man. "THIS ALLEYWAY IS NOT FIT FOR BEGGARS AND TRAMPS!" He motioned his hands towards Harry as if shooing off a stray dog, "Get out of my sight boy! And don't let me see you again!"

Harry instantly recognized the man as Mr. Borgin, not Dimitri, but rather Dimitri's half-brother. "Sir? I apologize for intervening," he drawled out. "But I wasn't here to collect scraps." He shot Mr. Borgin a nasty glare, which instantly caused him to gulp fearfully. "My friend, Astus decided to do some sightseeing around here. And I am, forced to retrieve him."

Mr. Borgin cast an apprehensive glance towards the snake, and paled. It was just his luck! He had just affronted a fairly dangerous man, who most likely had a lot of power at his disposal. It was one thing to own a poisonous snake, but to allow it to be draped casually around him as if it wasn't even a threat proved that the boy was no pushover.

To top it all off, the snake was no common garter snake. It was a Black Diamond Fire snake, rumored to be almost as rare, yet as deadly as the Basilisk. For all he knew, the boy had to be a dark wizard. Since no typically sane wizard would purchase such a deadly creature.

"My deepest apologies," he stuttered fearfully, before be tried to regain his pathetic composure. "My dear boy, may I present you...a gift...," he swallowed, eying the snake nervously. "I mean...gifts...to...repent my mistake."

Astus hissed threateningly towards the dumpily man. _"...I don't...like...him..." he hissed to Harry, "...may...I...have...him for...dinner?...I...am...so...hungry..." _Harry chuckled lightly and shook his head. Astus, who caught the implication snorted in disgust. _"...fine..."_ he hissed reluctantly, _"...but...after this...I...want...my dinner..." _

"Very well," snapped Harry, with a touch of annoyance towards the dark store's clerk. "As you well know, Mr. Borgin, I am I very busy man. I don't have time to deal with your mindless dally. So if you don't mind me asking, what is it you wish to present me?"

The man stuttered silently, before regaining his sense of speech. He'd never encountered someone with such a sarcastic and biting tongue, well...save for Malfoy, and possibly Snape.

"Yes...my apologies," he stammered, "If you would please follow me..." Mr. Borgin lead the way down a dark corridor covered from head to toe with dust, the ceiling seemed to possess a numerous amount of bats.

Harry tensed nervously, although his icy mask was still in place. No matter what, it was dangerous for him to remain in Knockturn Alley. There were too many dark wizards that would do anything to get their hands on him...

"Yes...it's here..." muttered Mr. Borgin to himself, as he lead Harry into a musty, dark library. The shelves were made of dark oak, and was beginning to rot. There was a single window exactly parallel to the door, and a small desk to the left. Behind the desk were bottles full of bright and murky potions.

Mr. Borgin turned towards Harry and announced, "My boy, in here are some of my most treasured possessions," he stared nervously towards the serpent, as if scared that it would suddenly attack him. Black Diamond Fire snakes are capable of determining the difference between a lie, and the truth. He gulped once again, and one who lied to the serpent's master had a death wish.

"It...is yours now..." he uttered forcefully. "You may select a book, and a potion of your choice for free. Other then that, you will have to purchase any remaining items."

Harry nodded slowly, his lips curling into Snape's trademark smirk. "Thank you," he replied stiffly, sending Mr. Borgin a curt nod. Knockturn alley wasn't a place to display emotion, only the strongest are capable of surviving in this environment.

Meanwhile, Mr. Borgin was staring at the boy nervously. He had thick black hair, around shoulder-length, with high-cheekbones and vivid green eyes. There was something familiar about the boy, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Mr. Borgin frowned slightly, but dismissed the thought. As far as he knew, it was unimportant.

Harry traced his fingers across the spines' of the books. He shivered lightly. Who knew what types of dark arts were present within the book. It was fairly obviously that these books were ancient, and very valuable. The restricted section at Hogwarts seemed like mere children's books compared to these forbidden arts.

Astus silently relinquished his hold upon Harry, and slithered down upon the floor. He lifted his head and sniffed the air, his dark eyes unfathomably clear. _"...follow...me..." _he hissed, not bothering to see whether or not Harry was following him.

The large snake, slithered the numerous bookshelves as if it was searching for something. "Astus? What are you doing?" whispered Harry, trailing slightly behind him. After around a few hours of searching, Astus stopped, and turned towards Harry.

He prodded one of the books and hissed,_"...get...this one,...trust...me...you...will...need...it...in...the future..." _Before Harry could utter a word of protest, Astus used his tail and pointed towards a heavily bound book near the top shelf. _"You...might...need...this as...well..." _

Harry shook his head mildly. 'There was no possible way he'd actually finish those books! Hell, he'd even have a hard time trying to lift one of those...' he thought, as his eyes flashing momentarily in amusement.

Astus then slithered off towards the corner of the shelf, and withdrew a thicker red covered book. "And...you'll...need...this...too..." He hissed, trying his best not to snicker at Harry's obvious distress.

"Fine..." grumbled Harry, shoot Astus a mock glare. "You win..." As he levitated the three books towards the counter.

Mr. Borgin had been watching the exchange with fascination. It was almost as if the boy understood what the serpent was saying... He shook his head in disbelief, 'No, that's impossible, the only Parselmouth alive is You-know-who...'

"Are you done with you selections yet?" he asked Harry, his oily manner returning. Mr. Borgin nodded in agreement at Harry's selection. "Yes...you've chosen well..." he said softly, "Those three books contain the most ancient and darkest arts that's ever been discovered. While not technically Evil..." Mr. Borgin trailed off when he noticed Astus slithering next to him.

"Thanks," muttered Harry, "Astus is going to select the potion for me." At Mr. Borgin's incredulous stare, he added, "He has good taste, after all he selected the books for me..."

Mr. Borgin concluded that the boy must be mad. To put that much trust into a snake was foolish, after all, snakes weren't capable of thinking...were they?

After a few minutes of silence, Astus pointed his tail at a large bright orange potion, and nodded meaningfully towards Harry. "I want that one," he muttered, turning towards Mr. Borgin who was gaping in disbelief.

'That...impossible..." he thought nervously. 'How could a snake find his strongest, and most powerful potion? Many fully trained wizards have never even noticed the bottle, and yet this boy...and his snake had discovered it.

"Yes...as you wish," he answered automatically. "That will be 134 gallons for the two books, and the third book and the potion are free." Harry causally pulled out a bag full of gallons and handed it towards the oily store clerk who's eyes widened in greed.

"Sir?" questioned Harry, shaking Mr. Borgin out of his reverie. "May I ask what the potion does?"

"It is a strengthening potion," he continued after seeing Harry's expression of disbelief. "However, it is different from the average strengthening potion. It strengthens your magical capacities, while builds up your immunity to curses. On the other hand, it also releases and strengthens your dormant powers." A small smile graced his face, "However, it does not necessarily protect you from all hexes."

"So...are you saying that this potion has the potential to make me as strong as Voldemort?"

Mr. Borgin flinched. "Yes, it is possible," he said slowly, "However it depends solely upon your hidden abilities..." He took a deep breath and continued, "This is the last bottle of the potion. At one time in history, there was a powerful, and skilled dark potion maker. He made three bottles full of the potion, no more...just three. The instructions have been lost over time, nerveless it would be useless trying to brew it. The first bottle went to that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore...and the second..."

"the...second bottle...went to..."

Harry waited in anticipation, dreading Mr. Borgin's next words.

"...the Dark...Lord..."


	5. Dark Heir Edited

**Seductive Darkness**

**By: xxlostdreamerxz  
**

**Disclaimer**: No, I do not own HP.

* * *

A tall scrawny black haired teen strolled through length the dark forbidding streets of Knockturn alley. One might be curious, as to why a child would be ambling about in such a place. For in these streets, only the strongest survived, and the weak perished. Most light wizards couldn't survive a second, hell, even Dumbledore might have problems surviving. A child wasn't possible be capable of commanding such power...or was he?

Harry Potter prowled the streets with the controlled stride of a hunter. He fit perfectly into the little murky niche called Knockturn Alley. Ever since his childhood, Harry had learned what it takes to survive. He had the useful talent to adapt to almost every possible situation. His first accidental venture to the alley, had done more good then harm.

As a second year, he'd become too dependent upon the ever powerful Dumbledore and his so called friends. So much that he felt lost without their guidance, and presence. Harry of all people, should have discovered the lies and manipulations that Dumbledore had so skillfully played upon him, to mold him into the perfect savior of the bloody light.

His lips curled in self-disgust. If he hadn't been so foolhardy back then, he might have discovered the truth. He might have been able to prevent Sirus' inevitable death at the Department of Mysteries. He was nothing more then a fool, a bloody murdering fool.

Harry stopped precisely in front of a small dusty shop with tinted windows and a moldy wooden door. Above the door, was a creaking sign with an unrecognizable picture of a black iris. To an outsider, the old dusty shops of Knockturn alley appeared to be deserted. For it would do them no good if the Ministry came and tossed them into Azkaban. The only way one would ever find the shop was if one of their 'kind' told them, for only Dark Wizards were allowed access to the secrets of Knockturn Alley. To make it inconspicuous, a few shops allowed themselves to be traceable to the Ministry, so that it didn't appear as if something was off. After all, it would seem a bit strange if an alley composed of deserted and empty shops would attracts so many 'sightseers' year round.

A few days ago, Harry had returned back home to the Black Serpent Hotel with Astus closely in tow. Unfortunately as it seemed, Dimitri was severely shocked to discovered that HIS hotel was sheltering the most one of the MOST poisonous snake in existence. After a few minutes of raving and ranting, Harry finally convinced Dimitri that Astus wouldn't harm or scare away his customers unless he was specifically in danger. After that, Dimitri's eyes flickered slightly with pride, and relief, and suggested that Harry should pay a visit to a particular shop. Earlier, Dimitri had been slightly apprehensive to the fact that Harry might have been a spy sent to uncover the ancient secrets of Knockturn Alley. As it so seemed, his current behavior proved him wrong. For Harry couldn't be anything but a dark wizard...for all light wizards hated snakes...didn't they?

With a small smirk, Harry calmly stepped through the threshold of the forbidding shop. Two haunting notes rang out through the air, indicating his arrival. The shop seemed quite old, most of the furniture were covered in dust. However they were still quite handsome in there age. Besides the leather couch, lay two elegantly carved wooden griffins. One was sitting on it's haunches, with it's piercing black eyes glaring around him. It was a beautiful creature, the feathers were so delicately carved that it seemed almost as if it was alive. At it's feet lay another griffin glaring forbiddingly towards him with it's beak open as if it was about to utter a piercing screech. Before that was a small mahogany desk, with piles of papers stacked neatly upon it. Whoever owned this shops was definitely a neat freak, well if you exclude the dust. As it so seemed, everything was in order, for the wands stacked up against the wall were neatly piled on top of each other.

"Hello..." whispered a soft cunning voice from the shadows. "May I ask who you are? We don't get customers much these days..."

Harry looked around for the source of the voice, and noticed an old hunched man emerging from the shadows. The man looked old enough to rival Dumbledore in age, however there was an air of mystery and fog around him. "My name is James Evens," he snapped, forcing every ounce of pride into his voice. "I am here to select a wand, for my other one is incapable of performing some of my new spells."

The man's cold black eyes narrowed slightly. "James Evens..." he hissed thoughtfully. "I have never heard of you before. Are you a pureblood?" he demanded, a twisted smile crossing his face.

"Yes," replied Harry calmly. "My parents were both killed when I was only a child" he forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. "I never met them, however my worthless Muggle guardians insisted that I take up their family name..." he spat in disgust, hoping against hope that the old man might buy his act.

"My deepest apologies," he replied insincerely, looking slightly put off at the thought of no torture. "My name is Radolphus, the last descendent from the noble house of Alacer."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Alacer," murmured Harry politely. "I have heard many things about you," he added with a light smirk when he saw the old man's eyes narrow slightly.

"A good friend of mine, Dimitri Borgin recommended your shop to me a few days ago. He was insisted that you were the best wand maker in the world..." Harry mentally shook his head when he noticed Radolphus puffed out his chest in pride. Dark wizards were so easy to sway, for they had egos larger then their brain. "My wand has been malfunctioning for quite awhile," continued Harry conversationally. "That fool Ollivander isn't quite the craftsman everyone claims him to be..."

"That is quite true," insisted Mr. Alacer nodding his head in agreement. All his suspicions about Harry had disappeared during that spectacular speech of his. "Ollivander's wands are mostly suitable for the Light Arts," he said with an arrogant sniff. "His cores are all legal, therefore not very powerful..."

"...unlike mine," he finished with a selfish gleam in his eyes. "MY wands on the other hand, are especially rare and powerful. For few know the location of my shop."

"In that case, I would love to purchase one of your infamous wands," praised Harry, trying his best not to snicker. He was truly putting his Slytherin cunning to good use. "I am quite sure that I'll be quite satisfied with it..."

With a twisted smile Mr. Alacer motion Harry to follow him. "This is my secret supply of wands..." he whispered softly, as they stepped in front of a portrait of a hissing cat. "Few know about this room, for only those with potential are allowed in."

Mr. Alacer whispered a long phrase under his breath, and the wall swung open to revel a slightly darkened room. "I felt your power as soon as you entered my shop...but I wasn't sure if you were the one..."

"What do you mean 'the one'," asked Harry curiously, as he followed him in. As soon as the lights flared, Harry found himself in a dusty, moldy old room with rotting shelves and spider webs clinging upon old wands.

"This room contains a collection of the wands of the deceased Dark Lords," exclaimed Mr. Alacer ignoring Harry's previous question, as he raised his wand to cast a cleaning charm. He picked up a box, that contained a eight inch rosewood wand with mixture of griffin claws and snake venom as the core. "This wand itself belonged to the Dark Mistress," he murmured softly. "She was Salazar Slytherin's half-sister. A powerful witch that one was." He stated with a shake of his head, and held out the box towards Harry. "But no matter, here give it a wave..."

Harry grabbed the wand and foolishly waved it around for a bit. "Ouch," he cried dropping the wand in pain. It seemed as if the wands were so tainted by the Dark Arts that only the suited person would be allowed to touch it.

"Here, try this," muttered Mr. Alacer as he dug through a pile of moldy papers, and held out another wand. "Black ash wood with a core consisting of the combination of Dragon scales and Demeter's skin," he stated as he carefully lifted the wand up with magic. Almost instantly, it began angrily spurting a shower of sliver and black sparks towards Mr. Alacer. "Well, this wand is one of my strongest creations..." he murmured loving, as he disposed the wand carefully on the table.

"It was my gift to dark wizard Grindelwald," he whispered his eyes dark with memories. "I was one of his most loyal followers...and I still am..." he added after a moment of silence. "I have a feeling that this wand will suit you just fine..."

"What makes you say that?" asked Harry as he eyed the wand cautiously. After getting burned and rejected from a wand a few seconds ago, he wasn't exactly excited about trying another one.

Mr. Alacer shot Harry a mysterious look. "Did you ever know that Grindelwald had a daughter?" he asked, almost as if he was talking to himself. "The girl was very dear to him, her eyes were green. Vivid emerald green..."

"After his downfall, Dumbledore sent the girl to live with Muggles. Probably just so that she would gain Muggle sympathies, and join the blasted Light's side..." he hissed menacingly, directing his glaze towards Harry. "The Muggle family she lived with...goes by the surname...Evans..."

"WHAT!"

"Yes...that poor girl...she was like a daughter to me..." he muttered with a sad shake of his head. "But no matter...she is dead, murdered by that bastard Voldemort. However...her son...lives on..."

Harry gulped slightly, almost in fear. Those dark black eyes seemed to look directly into his soul.

"Yes...the famous Harry Potter is in fact the last remaining heir of Grindelwald..."

"That's impossible..." whispered Harry in denial. "You're lying..."

"But it is the truth...try the wand...if you don't believe me...Mr. Potter..."

"I told you before!" snapped Harry, trying to regain control of the situation. "My name is James Evens. I am NOT related to the girl you speak of. And most of all, I am NOT Harry Potter..."

"Then prove it," challenged Mr. Alacer, crossing his arms defiantly. "Take the wand...and see if it'll obey you. For only those with blood relations to Grindelwald are capable of handling the wand."

"Fine," replied Harry, as he slowly moved towards the wand. "However, I doubt it'll work..." It hadn't ever crossed his mind that he of all people would be related to the late Grindelwald. He had always assumed that his family was Light, without the taint of the Dark Arts. Harry had enough with being kept in the dark, now he had the chance to find the truth about his heritage.

He cautiously picked up the wand as if positive it was going to shock him. Harry blinked in surprise when he felt a familiar warmth creeping up his arm. Instinctively he raised his wand and brought it down with a shower of green and silver sparks.

"No...it's impossible..."

Mr. Alacer shot him a thin smile. "Welcome back...young Master. It seems as if my hypothesis was correct...," he muttered to himself, enjoying the shocked expression upon Harry's face. "I assume that you'll be wanting to know more about your family history, correct?"

Harry nodded numbly. It seemed as if his worst nightmare had come true. By Gods! He was a descendent of Grindelwald! One of the darkest wizards in history!

"To make a long story short, I was one of Grindelwald's first followers. I owe him a life debt, for he saved my life countless numbers of time," there was a short pause before Mr. Alacer continued. "Your grandmother was from an old pureblood family, just like your grandfather. Their marriage was arranged, however I have never seen anyone as well suited as those two were. I must admit that I don't know much about Grindelwald as I should. For he became slightly paranoid a few years before his death, and trust none outside his family circle. After all, with the entire wizarding world out after his hide I suppose it was justifiable."

Mr. Alacer walked over towards the a small hidden bookcase near the corner of the room. "Since you are the heir of Grindelwald these texts legally belong to you. Some of these books are very rare for they contain purest black magic that have been lost over time," his eyes met Harry's wide green ones. "Yes...Black Magic...the darkest arts ever invented by our kind. It is untraceable by the Ministry, for it is too dark for the light arts to comprehend. It will do you some good to learn these..." he finished slowly. "My entire library is open to your disposal young master. If you ever need anything, you'll only need to ask..."

"But...I don't want to be evil..." Harry blurted out, his green eyes flashing passionately. "I might not agree with Dumbledore's useless rants about honor and good, however I have morals. I have no wish to take over the wizarding world! I only wish to learn the Dark Arts, and survive my encounter with blasted destiny! I'm a Dark wizard, not an Evil one..."

"Fair enough," replied Mr. Alacer evenly. "However it will do you good to remember your heritage. For many pureblood may not respect Voldemort, but they'll respect you as Grindelwald's heir." He motioned Harry over with an impatient wave of his hand. "Come here child, pick whatever you like. These books will help you...for the world is cruel and deadly place, and you'll need all the power you can get your hands on to survive."

Harry reached out and opened a black leather bound book with something that looked suspiciously like blood on it's cover. "**Purely Black Magic, by: Salazar Slytherin**," he read shivering slightly. The book was powerful, there was no doubt about that. It radiated an aura of magic darker then the darkest nights. Putting it down he picked up a bunch of books, " **Occlumancy and Ligimacy: The Search for Truth, by: T. M Riddle,** **The Magical Mind of the Ministry, by: Albus Dumbledore,  History of the Dark Arts, by: Silesia Cornwell, Potions for the Unsuspected**, and **Dueler's Guide: Life and Death Situations** and **Wandless Magic for the Gifted."**

Mr. Alacer looked slightly disappointed. "Is that all?" he asked meekly, as he held up a book, '**Pain and Torture,'** "Surely you'll like one of these?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. He hated causing people pain, however these were Dark times. You always need to be prepared for the worst. "Err...sure...why not..." muttered Harry with a shrug. "Might as well learn the theory behind it..."

"In that case, may I suggest some other books?" questioned Mr. Alacer, as he happily dug through his library. "There is a lot you need to learn young master. We'll need to prepare you for the upcoming war. After all, it's impossible for you to defeat Voldemort with the Light Arts," he snorted, tossing book after book behind him until there was a large stack of dusty books nearly as tall as Harry.

"Umm...thanks..." muttered Harry, as he watched Mr. Alacer proceeded to shrink the books and place them into a small lightweight bag. Strangely enough, Harry wasn't even feeling as agitated as he should have been at the discovery of his dark bloodline. A slight smirk slid across his face at the thought of what might happen if this secret 'accidentally' slid into the open. 'If so, the wizarding world was in for a bloody emotional joyride through hell. For there was no way that I'm was going to deny his heritage, regardless of what society in general thought of me...' he thought aloud.

Mr. Alacer chuckled slightly in agreement, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Yes young master, most likely the wizarding world will be scared out of their wits at the mere thought of two dark lords," his beetle black eyes glistered strangely, before he cleared his throat in thoughtful consideration. "Goodness knows they already have enough problems on their plate already, however you have to admit that it will be quite entertaining..."

"Quite so," Harry replied promptly. "I, myself have little love for the wizarding world...personally I wouldn't mind giving them an innocent little scare...as long as no one gets hurt...I don't see anything wrong..." Mr. Alacer smirked lightly at those profound words. As it so seemed, the boy wasn't as golden and difficult to serve as he originally predicted. The old man lips curled in disgust, at the mere thought what the boy went through living with his Muggle relatives. Such a poor...innocent soul getting tainted by those outlandish Muggles. It was quite surprising that the boy was still sane...both magically and physically...

Harry's emerald eyes was focused down at a tiny crack upon the opposite wall. "Tell me Mr. Alacer," he said suddenly, causing the old man to jerk out of his trance. "Earlier today, you mentioned that numerous members of pureblood families are reluctant to serve Voldemort. Correct?" Mr. Alacer nodded his head accordingly. "Is it true that they're doing it out of fear?" questioned Harry raising his gaze to meet Mr. Alacer's puzzled black ones.

"That is also correct..." he answered, while running his thin wrinkly hand through his mane of graying hair. "However, I do not see the importance of it..."

"The point is that if given the right incentive, I imagine that it'll be possible for our dear friend Voldemort to lose some of his so called loyal servants," continued Harry, his lips pursed into a thoughtful frown. "However it'll definitely prove to be quite a challenge..."

That caught the old man's attention. Mr. Alacer glazed thoughtfully back at Harry, as realization struck. "You actually plan to ally with the disloyal purebloods against Voldemort?" he hissed waving his arms around frantically. "You can't be serious! What makes you think they won't kill you on the shot, much less listen to you!"

Harry's lips twisted into a smile of pure sadistic pleasure. "That's because they won't won't be allied with Harry Potter..." he said slowly, as he waited for Mr. Alacer's reaction.

"...They'll be allied with the dark heir of Grindelwald..."


	6. Splintered Personality

**Seductive Darkness**

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP.

* * *

Mr. Alacer glazed silently at the dark haired boy with an unreadable expression. It seemed as if James...err...Harry was more like his grandfather they he'd originally thought. The boy was quite cunning and clever, far more then any ordinary child. Then again, Harry Potter was not at all normal. The boy needed every ounce of it to survive, unlike common beliefs, Harry didn't manage to escape the dark lord every time by pure luck.

He closed his eyes sadly while his lips lifted into a faint smile, as he recalled an image of a emerald eyed toddler. Lily Evens, the affectionate daughter of the notorious Dark Lord. A young girl that won everyone's heart with just a smile, a girl that managed to melt the ice around her father's stony heart...

Harry Potter possessed a combination of both his relation's traits. He had inherited his grandfather's wit and intellect, as well as Grindelwald's ability as a leader. From his mother's side, he gained her fiery temper as well as her compassionate heart. 'Quite an interesting combination, indeed. The boy had one foot in two completely different lifestyles,' noted Mr. Alacer thoughtfully. 'If he followed his mind, he could truly become one of the most powerful dark lords in history. Even greater then Voldemort and his grandfather combined. On the other hand, if he chose to follow his heart...' The old man eyes sparkled slightly, as he stroke his beard thoughtfully. 'Yes...the boy's future was definitely going to be quite a complex.'

"Sir?" inquired Harry quietly, jerking Mr. Alacer out of his thoughts. "So do you think..." he licked his lips nervously, as he studied his leather boots in thoughtful consideration, "...that the plan even has a chance of success?"

The old man sighed lightly, raising his eyes to meet Harry's bright emerald green ones. "That my boy, will depend upon you..." he said seriously, as he motioned Harry towards a pair of elegantly carved pinewood chairs with an identical pair of scarlet velvet seats. " Take a seat, I imagine that this will be quite a tediously dreary discussion..."

Harry nodded in agreement, as he slowly sank down into the chair. To his amazement, the velvet seats were quite comfy, obviously they were of better quality then the furniture at Hogwarts.

"I must admit Mr. Potter, that while your idea may seem quite ludicrous at the moment..." he shot Harry a hard look, which the boy met squarely. Mr. Alacer looked faintly surprised and almost pleased that the boy possessed a backbone. "...I believe that in due time, your plan may actually work. However that is not my main concern."

Harry's eyes widened slightly in confusion, "I don't understand Mr. Alacer..." he replied politely, trying his best to not let his exasperation show. "If there is a chance at success, I do not see why I shouldn't attempt it."

Mr. Alacer looked at Harry sharply. "And may I ask, how you will control them?" he snapped out bitingly, however his eyes told a different story, they were scared. Not for himself, but rather for the boy, the son of the child he'd had once loved. "You are too light...too pure to force control upon your servants. You are above killing and torturing, that is unless it is a pure necessity..." Harry opened his mouth to release a biting onslaught of protests, however he was quickly cut off by Mr. Alacer's rant. "Take Voldemort for example. Have you ever wondered why he tortures his own Death Eaters? Or why he insists upon making an example of Muggles and Mudbloods?" he hissed furiously leaning forward against his chair until his face was about a foot away from Harry's.

"Oh course," retorted Harry, his eyes narrowed with anger. "You must understand, I've seen my fair share of deaths by Voldemort's hand..." He took a deep breath before continuing, "Although Voldemort may be a sadistic bastard, he isn't murdering for the fun of it." Harry's eyes darkened until they were cold and as hard as ice, which even caused Mr. Alacer to shiver slightly in fear. "...he is in it for revenge..."

"Revenge?" questioned Mr. Alacer, momentarily forgetting about his previous concern. "What for?"

Harry's lips stretched out into a sly smirk, "Tell me Mr. Alacer, how much do you know about Voldemort's personal history?" he taunted, watching the old man's eyes light up with curiosity.

The dark wand maker cleared his throat carefully before he stated, "Not much, save for the fact that he is the heir of Slytherin and that he's a Parselmouth. From what I've heard, the dark lord has no desire to retell his personal history," he frowned thoughtfully, "It seemed as if he suddenly appeared out of no where. Before his reign, no one had ever heard of a one with the name of Voldemort..."

"Well, it seems as if Tommy must have 'accidentally' left out some information," drawled Harry, looking positively amused. "Voldemort, the must powerful dark lord of the century, was once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom after his father and Marvolo after his grandfather." Harry shook his head mockingly, "It's probably true that he is the heir of Slytherin. The bastard heir, that is. His father had been nothing more then a mere Muggle that his mother had fallen helplessly in love with..."

"Preposterous!" cried Mr. Alacer looking notably repulsed at the thought of serving, even if not quite loyally, a Mudblood. "The dark lord couldn't have been a...a..." he stuttered to a stop, as he fruitlessly tried to finish his thought. All the while, Harry gazed at Mr. Alacer in something close to amusement. Mr. Alacer closed in eyes as he counted slowly to a hundred, trying with all his might to regain his composure. "If what you say is true..." he began slowly, as he raised his eyes to meet Harry's. "Then why is Voldemort out to destroy all the Muggle world?"

"Like is mentioned earlier for 'Revenge'," replied Harry his face turning stony. "His father deserted him when he discovered that his wife was a witch. Mind you, obviously that was not the smartest thing to do. For from then on, Tom grew up in an orphanage, neglected and abused by Muggles," he raised his eyes to meet Mr. Alacer's shocked ebony ones. "Yes, Muggles. I understand that purebloods like yourself, believe that they are insignificant and are nothing more then dirt. However look what they did! They themselves created a terror that is feared by all in the wizarding world. It is an accomplishment worthy of trepidation..."

There was a moment of silence before Mr. Alacer nodded his head in acceptance. "Very well, I will acknowledge the fact that the Muggles were responsible for Voldemort's reign. However that does not mean that I'll respect them, much less view them as an equal," he sneered looking positively disgusted at the thought. "Now, back to my original question. How will you control and maintain your allies? What will you offer them for their services?"

Harry paused for a moment before answering hesitantly, " I won't use pain as an incentive like Voldemort, just to gain their assistance in this war. Rather I'll offer them this, a chance to live life as it was meant to be. A world where the dark and the light are balanced, where one can live without fear of getting killed. And most of all, freedom from Voldemort..." He sighed and slumped back against his chair. "The problem, however, lies in the fact of how I can display that I have enough power to rival that of Voldemort's. The Death Eaters will not support me if it would result in their demise..."

"Quite so," murmured Mr. Alacer looking slightly pleased. "However, I have an idea on how to remedy that problem..."

At that, Harry jerked up instantly and swung his glaze towards the dark old man. "How?" he asked questioningly. " I'm not going to torture someone if that's what you're suggesting..."

"Oh course not," snapped Mr. Alacer looking annoyed at being rudely interrupted. "I was thinking along the lines of extra training from some of Grindelwald's allies..." He held up his hand for silence, as Harry opened his mouth to speak. "As you well know, during Grindelwald's reign, most of our allies were dark creatures. Your grandfather offered them freedom, and equality in the eyes of society if he won the war. However that was not the case, for the light side won and the dark creatures were driven back into seclusion." His eyes glimmered slightly with hope, "And now, I think that it is time for them to return..."

Throughout the entire speech Harry's eyes had been growing wider and wider in shock and...awe? "Which dark creatures are you suggesting I should study under?" he asked cautiously. "And how do you know that they aren't loyal followers of Voldemort?"

Mr. Alacer snorted softly under his breath. "The dark lord doesn't possess the balls to confront them on his own. He is afraid of things that he can't explain, quite Muggle-like if you ask me. Voldemort sent many messengers off towards these forbidden territories and none of them...have ever returned..." The old man smirked lightly when he caught Harry's slightly worried glaze. "Don't worry boy, they pledged their loyalty to the Grindelwald line, therefore they are incapable of killing or serving another master."

"Right..." murmured Harry, as he ran his hand through his hair tiredly. "Which creatures again?"

"Dark elves, Vampires, and of course the Dementor Lords," stated Mr. Alacer shuddering at the last part. "Yes, Dementor Lords, creepy lot for what my opinion's worth. I sure as hell would rather die then to spend a moment with them..."

Harry's lips curled into a puzzled frown. "Dementor Lords? I've never heard of them before," he paused for a moment before continuing, "Are they like...Dementors?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, in a way they are. Dementor Lords are the aristocrats of their society, while the Dementors that you see in our world are merely the runts of the litter," said Mr. Alacer conversationally, trying his best not to let his fear get the best of him. "To tell you the truth, I've never seen one before. I've never even heard of them before Grindelwald's reign, for they rarely ever leave their territory..."

"You...want ME to study with Dementors!" he cried incredulously, "Are you insane? What in the name of Merlin do you think I could learn from them?"

Mr. Alacer's expression quickly transformed into a frown. "Like I mentioned earlier, Dementor Lords are far superior then the average Demeter. They are well known for they skills in Legitimacy, Occlumancy, as well some mind magic. I'm not quite sure what they'll teach you..." he said hesitantly, "However I believe that it'll be for the best. As Grindelwald's last remaining heir, and as Harry Potter, you'll need every ounce of power and knowledge to survive."

Harry reluctantly after a moment of deep consideration. Mr. Alacer was right, he needed the training even if he wasn't going to be particularly fond of the teachers. "Very well," he sighed in defeat, "How do we contact them?"

The old man slowly rose to his feet and drew out a thin rectangular box that could have easily been mistaken for a wand case, save for the fact that it was doled with rare jewels and delicate wooden carvings. "Here, take this..." he whispered solemnly. "Grindelwald left this in my care before he died, he said to present it to his heir upon his sixteenth birthday. I wanted to give it to your mother, however I was afraid, with Dumbledore watching over her like a hawk it was practically impossible. But now, I give this to you...the last heir of my dear friend."

Harry held onto the box cautiously, as if it might disappear the moment he let go. He had always wondered about his heritage, his place in society. Most of all, he'd always wanted to know what his parents and relatives were like. And now, right in his hands, he had a chance to discover his grandfather's personally life's story. The man behind the mask that ruled the world with an iron fist.

With slow trembling fingers he slowly opened the box...

A sudden burst of bright light exploded from inside, illuminating the room. Harry and Mr. Alacer simultaneous raised their arms to cover their face from the blinding light. An unforeseen whirlwind swept through, throwing boxes after boxes of wands around as if they were nothing more then mere dolls. A piercing shriek resounded around the room as something insubstantial emerged from within the box.

As the wind and light began to diminish, both men cautiously lowered their arms. What they saw made there jaws drop into a silent scream. Before them stood, as clear as day, a smoky apparition of the Dark Lord Grindelwald...


	7. The Beginning

**Seductive Darkness**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer;** No, I do not own HP.

* * *

The magical world in general seemed to be experiencing an eerie sort of phenomenal storm. The sky was dark with massive malign-like clouds, while the heavens rumbled with suppressed furry...and savage delight...of the coming of a new lord. Wisps of electricity twisted hazardously around the sky, dancing curiously around the clouds. Moments later, a gigantic sliver-blue lightning blot flared down towards earth, illuminating the world with it's essence.

For the first time in history, the magical community was incapable of explaining this abnormal burst of bewitching power. Some wizards passed it off as a freak storm, a natural phenomenal not worthy of their time or efforts. However, those that knew better were filled with a sense of anticipation and distress. A display of such power always signified a change in power. Most elders were worried, for the last time such a storm occurred was during the advent of Grindelwald's and Voldemort's reign of terror. But no matter, sometimes change can be for the better...

Meanwhile, in a seemingly dusty ancient shop in Knockturn Alley, two wizards: one venerable with old age, and another at the prime of his existence were both staring in thunderstruck amazement at the wispy gray figure that emerge from the jewel encrusted box, quite like a genie from a magic lamp. A mirage was none other then the Dark Lord Grindelwald himself.

The figure/mirage was slightly hazy in general, almost as if you're looking in through a fairly dirty window. The middle-aged man was donned with a regal set of royal blue silk robes, with a matching silver lining cloak that draped majestically from his broad shoulders. The cloak was clasped together by the impressive family crest. The crest was adorned with sparkling emeralds and sapphires that twinkled like mysterious stars in the night sky. A replica of a snarling velvet black panther was centered upon the crest, with demonic blood red eyes. Behind it lay two golden wands crossed in forevermore.

The man had a head of short cropped auburn hair, as well as a matching pair of brown eyes with emerald flecks. Eyes that were a slight shade darker then Harry's. The man also possessed thick forbidding eyebrows, as well as a strong stern chin that was curved into a distantly amused frown.

The apparition opened his mouth to speak, it resembled something similar to listening to icy bells chiming in the winter breeze. "My heir, if you are listening to this then it must mean that I am dead, or missing." The man gave a rueful smile as he ran his hand through his auburn locks, "I have to admit, It feels strange recording this at the moment. However I feel that it is necessary, for I strongly doubt that I'd survive long enough to watch you grow up..." he said softly, his eyes darkening with pain. "Lily, you must remember that I've loved you, no matter what rumors your might discover concerning my reputation in the wizarding world."

Not knowing what to say or do, Harry just stood there watching silently. Then again, he probably couldn't have spoke even if he'd somehow managed to find his tongue. For his throat felt to constricted with emotion for him to do otherwise. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Alacer stare sadly down at his dead friend with a downcast expression plaster upon his face.

"I admit that I might have been a bit ambitious with my quest to dominate the entire magical community, however I must say that I have been at fault." The man sighed heavily, as he stared slightly down at his feet. "I should have put my family above everything, even power. However now it is to late, my wife is dead and you, my dear heir is all that I have left. Not to mention the fact that I have most of the wizarding world out searching for me..."

"I have disbanded my followers already, however I still have much knowledge to relay to you about your ancestry, and most importantly your destiny." As he was speaking the middle-aged man removed the family crest from his cloak, as well as the silver ring that he wore upon his index finger. "Lily, I want you to have these: the family crest, as well as the magical ring that's been passed down throughout generations. "The crest will instantly notify others that you are indeed my heir, for family crests are only capable of being worn by one with similar blood ties such as our own."

"The ring however is an entirely different case. It will allow you to control and transport yourself to our alias's realm, in times of great danger." The apparition extended his hand and held out said objects towards Harry for inspection. "Remember my child, that our bloodline is very unique and well known throughout the wizarding world. If something even possibly threatens your life I want you to promise me to do everything in your power to survive..." The man sighed softly before continuing, " I want you to live your life to the fullest, to be able to love and treasure every moment. Most of all, I don't want you life to be overshadowed by my atrocious..."

"My dear heir, hold out your hand," he whispered solemnly. Harry fidgeted nervously, in truth he was Grindelwald's heir. However it felt distantly...well...wrong to take something that should have righteously belonged to his mother. The middle-aged man continued on with the same dull monotone voice. "Lily, I want you to promise you'll relinquish these items to your children when they become of age. Even if you might hate your heritage, I want you to know that we are related by blood, and nothing...can change that."

After a moment of silence, Harry slowly held out his hands. Almost in slow motion, two glimmering shapes materialize out of thin air and fell with a soft clink into the boy's open palms. He blinked in surprised, as he held up the two objects for inspection. The crest was quite handsomely made, it definitely seemed more elegant then those worn by the Muggle Royalty. However, the ring was an entirely different case. Under close inspection, the ring was made from a kind of silver-black metal with miniature golden ivy leaves entwined into a complexly stunning pattern. In the center of the ring was a picture of a mysterious looking eye. Said eye was half-closed, almost in a slight sleepy manner, however the pupils beneath were focused and deadly.

"To access the power of the ring, you'll need to relinquish three drops of your blood and dip it accordingly onto the ring. If done correctly, the ring will begin to shimmer," stated the middle-aged man in bored tones, almost as if he was speaking to a young child. "After that, the ring is yours to control. It will teleport you anywhere within limits of the stated realms, and all you have to do is wish..." Grindelwald sighed once again, "Well, as much as I hate to say this, it is time for us to part..." At that, the mirage began to dwindle, and shrink down in size. Before the middle-aged mirage disappeared completely he whispered, "...my child...I...love...you..." And poof, the mirage was gone.

Harry stared at the spot dumbly. His heart was torn with sympathy and slight pain that he'd never gotten the chance to meet his grandfather. For he was fairly sure that they would have gotten alone quite well had he lived. A soft shuffle to his left, shook him out of his trance as he came face to face once again with Mr. Alacer.

"Young master?" he asked cautiously, wringing his hand nervously. "I think that It would be best if you leave right away..." Mr. Alacer looked pointedly towards the silver-black ring. "Your training is very important aspect that you'll need to ensure the success of your plans..."

"Alright," answered Harry evenly, even though he felt slightly disconcerted at the moment. Who should he study with first? The Demeter Lords? The Dark Elves? The Vampires? He sighed heavily as he drew his wand and made a small cut on his fingertip. Harry stared at his finger thoughtfully, as three drops of pure red blood dripped down towards the ring...

The boy closed his eyes, momentarily missing the blinding flash of pure blue light that flared off the ring. 'Take me...to the...Demeter Lords...' he thought tensely. Moments latter, Harry Potter disappeared in a whirlwind of dust and shadows...

Meanwhile:

It was a typical chilly summer morning at the enchanted Hogwarts grounds. The wind blew gently against the towering trees of the Forbidden Forest, causing them to rustle slightly against the breeze. Within the peacefully shimmering lake, the giant squid was presently executing a fairly peculiar dance with it's tentacles. All the while, Hogwart's tall and forbidding shadow loomed over the grounds, watching over it's precious land with loving consideration. It resembled something derived from a fairy tale...

That is, until a lone hooded figure emerged from the monstrosity otherwise known as the Forbidden Forest. The figure was around mid-height with an old slightly patched black woolen cloak hanging over his shoulders, as well as a pair of black robes that were dusty with travel. Strangely so, the figure did not once acknowledge the attractive enviorment around him. Rather that, the moment he entered school grounds, he had broken into a full out run towards the great gates of Hogwarts.

Said figure was none other then the loving werewolf, Remus Lupin himself. The sandy haired man had an aggravated and tense expression present upon his face. Moments ago, he'd quite accidentally discovered from a rather drunk Order member that Harry was missing. No...not just that, Harry had been missing for almost TWO weeks!

Upon his friends deaths he had promised...no...sworn to protect Harry with his life. Remus released a slightly animalistic growl of frustration. But the real question lies as in HOW he was suppose to PROTECT Harry when he was MISSING! At that, he quickened his stride furiously as he slammed open the doors that lead to the Great Halls, with such ferocity that they were almost torn off their hinges. Upon careful inspection, they would discover that his normally gentle brown eyes were sparkling with flecks of lupine gold. Sparkling not in joy or amusement, but rather pure undiluted anger...

Remus kept his emotions tightly leashed as he strolled tightly past the stone gargoyle, and stomped childishly up the winding stairs. Had anyone witnessed this display, they would definitely have to agree the esteemed headmaster was in for quite a temper tantrum. Not to mention, most of Dumbledore's prized possessions had already been destroyed during the past few weeks by the one and only Harry Potter.

At that moment, Remus slammed open the door to Dumbledore's study and was greeted with surprised squawk from Fawkes. Before him was a elegant mahogany table with delicate wooden carvings of the Hogwart's crest. Upon the table lay a few pieces of scattered maps and diagrams of war tactics, and magically labeled maps of where they've tried to pinpoint Harry's current position. To his disappointment, they were a bit vague for they could only determine location by country. Thankfully, Harry had not yet left the country...

"Remus? What do I owe this pleasant visit for?" asked Albus curiously, as he plopped another one of those foul tasting Muggle sweets into his mouth. "Lemon Drop?" he offered, holding out the rainbow colored bag to Remus.

"No thank you headmaster," he replied coolly yet politely, even though his smile seemed slightly forced. "With all due respect Albus, BUT HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOOD MIND!" screamed Remus, losing complete control of his temper. Remus Lupin was normally a polite and subdued young man, that rarely ever lost his temper. In his long life, he'd only lost it four times. Once when Sirus played the deadly prank of Snape, another when he received news of the Potter's demise, then there was also the time when he thought Sirus was the murder. The most recent temper tantrum happened to occur during the last week or so, when in a burst of anger he'd destroyed most of his possessions. At those word's the infamous twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes began to fade.

"WHY IS IT THAT YOU DIDN'T INFORM ME ABOUT HARRY!" snapped Remus, his breath coming out in short angry gasps. "HOW COULD YOU KEEP A SECRET OF THAT MAGNITUDE FROM ME! DON'T YOU CARE WHAT MAY HAPPEN TO HARRY? AREN'T YOU EVEN WORRIED THAT HE MIGHT BE 'DEAD' AS WE SPEAK?"

"Mr. Lupin, calm down," stated Dumbledore fixing Remus with a stern glaze. "I apologize profusely about not hiding this particular matter from you. However, I must say that I have my own reasons..." he said evenly, his eyes were tired and weary. "You must understand Remus, that Harry is like a son to me. Ever since Lily and James's tragic deaths, I've done everything in my power to protect him." He tapped his fingers together thoughtfully before murmuring, "I truly care about him...

"Then why haven't you sent out the entire Order to search for him? Rather then just a select few?" retorted Remus, having cooled down slightly. But was still eyeing the headmaster with something close to annoyance and mild anger. "Headmaster, you must forgive me for mentioning this, but what is the point of reinstating the Order if they aren't going to partake upon the war?" Remus continued, oblivious to the fact that Dumbledore was making sound attempts to interrupt. "So far they've done nothing except cause harm, they are incompetent as a whole..."

The esteemed headmaster just sat there, staring at Remus with a slightly sad expression upon his face. As the young werewolf continued his relentless verbal attack upon Dumbledore. "Do you recall that last attack during the Department of Mysteries when Sirus died?" he snarled softly, his lupine gold eyes glaring into the headmaster's pale blue ones. "The infallible Order destroyed my last and only friend, and for that I can never forgive them. You kept Sirus trapped in the Headquarters the entire year. You forbid him to ever leave the building since it wasn't entirely 'safe' for him. Do you truly think that Sirus thought that the Headquarters were any better then Azkaban?"

"And now, Harry's gone and your precious Order has done nothing to prevent it..."

During the entire rant, Dumbledore remained silent waiting patiently for Remus to collect himself. "Mr. Lupin, like I said the Order tried it's best to protect Harry. We had guards stationed around the house, every second of the day..." Remus interrupted in a rather indignantly tone and stated, "Then explain to me once again, why Harry's missing, if he was given such protection..."

At that, Dumbledore slumped back further against his chair. "Mr. Lupin, I understand that you're distressed about Harry's current disappearance, as well as Sirus' tragic death," he stated softly, looking at Remus closely under his thin pair of spectacles. "However it is no excuse to lay the blame entirely upon the Order's shoulders. We are all only human...," he said sadly, as his idly fingered the golden ruby encrusted ring around his finger. "...therefore, we all make mistakes..."

"And some more then others," snapped Remus, his glaze soften when he saw the headmaster bow his head in shame. "I...apologize headmaster," he muttered softly after a few moment of tense silence. "That was uncalled for..."

Dumbledore shook his head in disagreement. "No Remus, as a matter of fact you're quite right. It was all my fault, this entire scandal," he stated looking slightly depressed. "My lack of judgment was the real reason that Harry and Sirus are both gone. When I first shipped Harry off to the Dursleys I was certain that he would be allowed to live a normal childhood," he said with a sad twinkle in his eye. "I wanted him to be loved, to know that people didn't just care about his for his fame, but rather because of his personality..."

"But instead, I condemned him to an abominable childhood without compassion or affection. It must have been so hard for him, growing up not knowing what love was...not knowing that there were people out there that cared for him..." The headmaster sighed gloomily, as he raised his glaze to meet Remus's emotional lupine gold ones. "Did you know that he grew up, the first ten years of his life in a cupboard? Listening to rants about how he was a good-for-nothing freak that should have died with his parents?"

If possible Remus's jaw dropped further in shock, as his hands trembled with pure murderous rage. "What...else did those...repulsive Muggles do to him..." he hissed between his teeth, he opened his mouth to speak, however he shut it abruptly when he heard a footsteps heading their way. Moments later, a slightly haggard looking Severus Snape entered the scene.

The man's usual sallow skin was deathly pale, at the moment his skin seemed to be tightly stretched across his face. His raven black hair was just about as greasy as ever, however if one looked closely they would notice that Snape's hands were...trembling? Something was definitely was off, for of all people, Snape happened to be one of the talented few that could conceal his every emotion.

"Severus? Are you alright?" inquired Dumbledore worriedly, voicing Remus's thoughts as a rare and serious glint sparkled in his eyes. "I take it that the meeting didn't go so well?"

Snape nodded his head jerkily, not even bothering to send one of his death glares towards the headmaster. "Do you remember that freak storm that we experienced earlier today?" he said suddenly, ignoring the curious looks from both of the room's occupants. Remus and Dumbledore nodded simultaneously in agreement, as they waited for Snape to continue. "The Dark Lord was tense the entire meeting, it was almost as if he was...waiting for something..."

"How does that have anything to do with the storm?" Remus voiced aloud, causing both the Headmaster's and Severus' glaze to fix intently upon him. Well, then again, Snape's was pretty much more of a sneer then anything else.

The headmaster sighed tiredly as he vanished his reading glasses with a wave of his wand. "My boy, have you ever come across the history and development that transpires 'Magical Storms'?" asked Dumbledore intently, as if giving a lecture.

Remus shook his head slowly. "I've come across that term before in one of my Defense Against Dark Art's Books. It wasn't explained explicitly, the only information I was able to catch was that such storms were rare, and only around five have occurred throughout history."

"That is correct, for Magical Storms only occur when truly magical beings are about to emerge. Just take it as well, a sign," stated Dumbledore evenly, ignoring the disbelieving look on Remus's face. "I understand that few understand and appreciate the true art of Divination, however I on the other hand I am a believer...and most likely Voldemort is as well," he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Most storms tend to occur when there will be a considerable shift in power..."

Snape sneered in disgust, "But that isn't always for the better is it?" he hissed, his coal black eyes were dark and haunted by the shadows of the past. "For all we know, we might have another dark lord to contend with..."

"Fair enough..." replied Remus, looking distantly shaken. "However there isn't enough proof that he'd turn dark, there's always hope that the wizard would be Light..."

"Use your head Lupin!" hissed Snape, as his lips curled in disgust. "If a wizard truly wants Power, do you think he'd listen to petty negotiations of peace? No, if Power is what he wants he'll do anything to obtain it..."

"Is that what happened to you?"

"ENOUGH!" roared Dumbledore, finally losing his patience. Which instantly caused both men to shut up, looking slightly embarrassed at their childish argument. "Even so, I agree with Severus. We need to do everything in our power to prepare just in case there is a future threat," replied Dumbledore tiredly. "However, our main objection at the moment is to locate and obtain...Harry Potter..."


	8. Meeting of the Minds

**Seductive Darkness**

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP.

* * *

The scent of blood and decay was evident the second Harry landed upon the strangely morbid land of the Dementor Lords. The air permeated of fear and death, such that even a blind man would be capable of sensing the pain. The trees were the color of the darkest onyx stones with sturdy branches stretching out towards the heavens. Beyond the enclosure of trees lay a stunning yet vile ruby red lake, the exact replica of blood. Pieces of silver metallic rock glistened lightly under the moonlit sky, illuminating the deprecating meadow that he'd accidentally landed upon.

It was so strange, this eerie realm was beautiful yet so...dangerous, then again, Harry shouldn't have expected otherwise from the Dementor Lords. Truly, he prayed that somehow the Dementor Lords would be nothing like their offspring. In addition, he was not at all looking forward to reliving his memories the moment he encounters one. Hell, so much has happened since his last encounter with the Dementors! If the wizarding world discovered that his 'condition' as of falling into screaming fits was worsening, they would once again proclaim him as the mentally unstable, attention-seeking child.

Harry shivered lightly as a burst of icy wind struck him, unknowingly he pulled his black dragon-hide jacket closer. During his stay at Knockturn Alley, he'd somehow acquired a slightly eccentric taste of a cross between Muggle and Wizarding fashions. At the moment, he was donned with said leather jacket which was also slightly curse repellent. Below that he had on a dark gray muscle shirt with the magically enhanced picture of a hissing black snake pasted upon the center. Every once in awhile it would snap and glare threatening towards others around him, strangely enough the snake reminded Harry of his friend Astus. Who he'd unknowingly left behind in the wizarding world. Harry winced softly, the moment Astus found him...well lets just say that if snakes can hold grudges, Astus would definitely come out of top.

Personally he found it slightly strange how wizards were opposed to wearing pants. Having been bought up in a Muggle household, Harry had truly always never been comfortable wearing only robes. To him, pants were far easier to move about in then traditional wizarding robes, which would be an extremely useful asset in a duel. His wardrobe currently consisted of few pairs of fashionably tailored wizarding robes that could easily put the Malfoy family to shame, as well as few pairs of slightly more comfortable Muggle clothing.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a swirl of mist and shadows emerged from the dense wall of trees around him. Almost instantly Harry had drawn out his wand, and was holding it in a defensively. A current of mist and shadows swirled about floor, as it began raising furiously about. Truthfully, it resembled something much like an ocean storm, dark...dangerous...and unforgiving...

His eyes caught a glimpse of five shadowy figures surrounding him, before his mind was caught in a current of power. It felt as if his mind was being shredded apart, piece by piece, as if he was nothing more then a dog's favorite chew toy. Unknowingly, Harry had fallen to his knees and was cradling his head protectively in his arms. It was so cold, so bitter, so...evil... Truly, he had no idea what to do, these creatures were by far stronger and more ruthless then Dementors were.

Furiously, Harry racked his mind for a happy memory...anything that could possible defend him from getting his soul sucked out. However, it was useless the Dementors presence was getting to him, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Not to mention the fact that everything that he'd once cherished seemed empty now, memories of Quidditch, hanging out with Ron and Hermione everything just seemed to be too distant...to inaccessible... As it so seemed, Sirus' death played a major role in his life...it made him grow up.

His vision blurred as the Dementor began their glacial approach, it felt strange feeling so calm right before death. 'I suppose Mr. Alacer was wrong...' he thought vaguely as his head began to roll on his shoulders. And then the screaming and voices began...

Torrents of mind boggling images flashed through his mind, almost as they would in a movie. Some might say it was as if Harry's life was flashing before his very eyes. Memories of pain and agony tore at his soul, breaking the careful wall he'd composed around his mind as it released a flood of grievous recollections of the past. Flashbacks of the life with the Dursleys attacked him relentlessly, the anguish of living life without love, the ache of his body after a round of his relative's beatings... Then there was Triwizard Tournament where Cedric Diggory died, it was his fault...all his fault...had he not been so bloody honorable, the boy might still be alive today. Above all was the attack during the Department of Mysteries in which his godfather Sirus fell through the veil...it hurt so much...the last 'family' member was dead...gone forever...due to his own incompetence in learning Occlumancy. If he had another chance...he'd do anything...even as far as sacrifice his own life from his godfather's...

At that moment Harry felt his resolve harden as he tried mentally to form some sort of shield. He can't die now, not yet...at least not until Sirius's honor was avenged... Above all, he refused to allow his soul to get sucked out by some ghoulish monster. If he was destined to die, then so be it, but one thing for sure, he won't give up without a fight. At the moment, Harry's wand was lying upon the floor a few feet away. However to his irritation it was not within arms reach, not to add that his body seemed to be slightly paralyzed at the moment.

Trying his best to ignore the screaming and flashbacks, Harry closed his eyes and once again tried to mentally form a Patronus-like shield. In the depths of his mind, he suddenly saw flashes of silver energy pulsating about like crazy, almost quite similar to miniature thunderbolts. Unknowingly, Harry took a deep breath and collected the energy and wrapped it tightly around his mind...

To his utter surprise, he saw his silver energy clash with flaming onyx colored balls of power that were trying to penetrate his mind. Truly, for the first time in life, Harry actually experienced the true essence of magic. The flaming onyx colored balls had to be some form of legitimacy, and the silver energy was a shield, his shield was a cross between a Patronus shield, and a mental wall. But unlike his wand produced Patronus, his mental shield full of shadows and mist. In theory, evil dwell in pure darkness, however the dark was also the safest haven for all.

Harry slowly raised his head as his emerald green eyes began to focus. At the same moment he met his tormentor's glare, he mentally thrust back their mental attack and increased it tenfold. Within seconds, the Dementors were sent upon the floor withering with pain as they released morbid screams of terror. It was strange, the image that Dementors could actually feel pain. For Harry had always associated Dementors with death and pain, he'd never actually thought that such creatures could actually suffer.

That's enough... hissed a icy voice, as it tore through Harry's mind. Shield and all. The creature mumbled a few words in another language that Harry's never heard, and instantly the Dementors were released from their torturous punishments. You're not as weak as I originally presumed...young master...

"Where are you!" snapped Harry, his eyes darting rapidly about, as if the creature was hiding within the shadows. "Show yourself!"

No...not yet... snapped the voice coldly. Harry could feel the magnificent power behind that single thought. Truly, it almost felt like a maelstrom of energy waiting to be released. Never once, had he ever experienced such blatantly raw power. It was too mind-boggling for him to accept. The voice however continued on, You'll have to prove your worth...for not everyone...shall be allowed to fare under my guide

Harry felt his expression harden. "Very well, what do I have to do?"

A icy chuckle rebounded through Harry's head. What do you think? taunted the voice. You'll need to survive...lets say three random tests of mine. If you shall pass then I will personally train you. However, if you 'accidentally' die in the process...then so be it. I will allow any exceptions, even for you...young master

The boy frowned thoughtfully as he weighed both choices. On one hand, if he should get through this obstacle course alive, then he'd be trained by the masters of the mind. However if he died...well, he truly didn't give a damn. Let the bloody wizarding world fight their own battles against Voldemort! Should he die, then at least he'd have the satisfaction of knowing that he'd died trying... "Agreed," he replied stiffly, after a moment of silence. "Only if you'll agree to my conditions..."

State your conditions...

"First you have to give me your word that you'll teach me everything you know, should I manage to pass," he stated coolly. "Second of all, I should probably warn you that I don't plan upon staying here for more then a week or so. Therefore, I assume that I'd be allowed to continue my training if the need arises in the future." The onyx haired boy swung his wand idly, however his emerald green eyes were wary and alert.

Agreed hissed the voice after a moment of tense silence. However you must keep in mind...the chances of you surviving...my challenge. For those fools that have trespassed upon my territory, were killed the moment they entered. But you, as the heir of my last master...I will give you a chance to prove your worth...

Harry nodded in agreement. "If my grandfather could do it, then so could I," he replied somewhat hesitantly. "Whether it will take me months to complete my tasks, or just a mere day or so...I will not rest until I achieve my goal."

Ay, but you must remember that your grandfather did not survive my test on his own replied the voice slyly. With an army of dark creatures at his disposal, he managed to over come the challenges and complete his stated task Harry could almost hear the slippery voice snickering cruelly within his mind. However...out of an army of thousands, only he and three of his companions managed to survive. You were a fool to underestimate...the power of the Dementor Lords...and for that, you'll pay dearly for your folly

A flaming green ball of energy flared slowly towards him. Second by second, the ball gained momentum and increased in size and power until it became a shimmering orb of power. Harry watched in mounting horror as he saw the orb slam harshly against his thin misty shields. To put it simply, it hurt like hell. The closest thing he'd ever experienced to this form of torture was by the Cruciatus Curse cast upon him by Voldemort. Within a matter of minutes, Harry had submitted into the blessed blankness of his mind...and fainted...

Meanwhile

It was a cheery summer day near the homey cottage otherwise known as the Burrow. The orchard trees were ripe with fruit, while the billowing hills rolled about with streams of long wind-blown grass. The cottage was a crooked as usual, with the apparent view of a temperamental ghoul throwing things about in the attic. A few weeks ago, the Weasley family had decided as a whole that maybe some sunshine might do their ghoulish guest some good. More so they had hoped for a few hours of peace an quiet, that is if they didn't count the twin's deafening experiments. So far, the additional window in the attic seemed to be doing more harm then good, for the ghoul seemed to be slightly more grumpy then usual.

It was currently the middle of July, and the Weasley family was quickly bustling about in preparation for Harry's birthday party. Before the end of the term, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went to get permission from Dumbledore to invite Harry over. After a few hours of hassling and screaming on Mrs. Weasley's part, Dumbledore reluctantly agreed. For sixteen was an important age for a wizard. At the strike of midnight, the heir will receive the family's line's magical talents. To tell you the truth, the Weasleys were slightly curious about the magical qualities of the Potter line, more so whether or not Harry would accept it. Such power tends to come with great responsibility, and as far as they knew, Harry already had too much weight upon his shoulders. After all, if the wizarding world depending upon you to destroy Voldemort, you tend to get a bit stressed about it.

The older the wizarding line, the stronger their magical talents would be. The Malfoy were a fair example, with their bloodline dating back to thousand of generations, their magical talents were fairly strong. However, an important thing to keep in mind is the fact that not every heir would receive the same amount of magical talent. With two entwined pureblood lines, an heir might receive two talents, or maybe even none. That was the risk one took when they decided to keep their line pure, the risk of never receiving their magical talent. On the other hand, if it was a marriage between a pureblood and a Muggleborn, the heir will almost always receive magical talents from the pureblood line. But no matter, according to the Weasleys, Harry was a half-blood so it was practically certain that he'd receive magical talents...wasn't it?

A loud bang suddenly resounded through the house, closely followed by a roar of fury. A few weeks ago, Mrs. Weasley had been shocked to discover the twin's latest and most outrageous misfit...the fact that they were not planning to graduate Hogwarts. From that point on, in a seething fit of fury, Mrs. Weasley became something similar to a very temperamental hurricane. Even the smallest peep from the twins would cause her induce her wrath upon them. However that didn't broad well with the twins, for they were too use to living life up to the fullest...more so...they basically loved noise.

"FRED! GEORGE!" screamed Mrs. Weasley her face red with fury, as her shrill voice rebounded about the walls. Previously, she had been working contently upon a large delicious cherry pie for the family. However, instead of a sweet crunchy cinnamon colored crust, the pie was currently flashing a luminescent rainbow light.

A pair of identical grinning faces emerged from behind the counter. However, their mirth was short lived for their smirks disappeared instantly the moment they saw their mother's furious expression.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT DOING PRANKS IN THE HOUSE!" boomed Mrs. Weasley, drawing herself up to her full height which sadly just about only reached her son's noses. However, the infamous twins winced and drew back as one.

"But mom it was an accident!" retorted the twins instantly. "It isn't like we'd ever do something so...gasp outrageous!" exclaimed Fred, covering his mouth in mock horror. George snickered softly under his breath and added, "Mom, how could you! Have you no heart! Blaming your two most BELOVED children of such a horrendous crime!" Fred nodded enthusiastically as he began backing slowly away. "I mean come on! We won't DARE even think of something so...preposterous!" they stated together with an innocent expression pasted upon their face, however unknown to Mrs. Weasley the twins had their fingers crossed behind their backs. At that, they quickly made their retreat from the kitchen only to be caught moments later of an even more furious Mrs. Weasley.

"YOU'RE BOTH GROUNDED!" she roared, causing the house to tremble. "FROM NOW UNTIL HARRY'S BIRTHDAY YOU WILL HAVE TO DE-GNOME THE GARDEN EVERY SINGLE DAY!" At that the twins shrugged lightly, de-gnoming wasn't such a big deal. Sure it was a bit time consuming and all, but it wasn't something that they couldn't handle. As if knowing what was going on inside the twin's minds, Mrs. Weasley continued, "ON TOP OF THAT, YOU'LL HAVE TO HELP YOUR FATHER ORGANIZE HIS MUGGLE BATTERY COLLECTION...FOR AS LONG AS HE SEES FIT! UNDERSTOOD?"

Fred and George exchanged a horrified glance. "No...not the batteries!" they begged passionately. "Dad will kill us! Don't you remember what he did last time?" whispered George fearfully. "Kept us there for hours on end...trying to teach us more about the uses of...'batteries'..." The twins shuddered as one. "Then..." Fred gulped painfully, and closed his eyes as if trying to keep the memory at bay. George patted his brother on the back supportively. "Mom, please...we'll do anything as long as it doesn't involve helping dad with his...'battery collection'..."

Mrs. Weasley looked distantly amused at her son's horrified expressions. Of course, she wasn't going to let them in on that little secret. "Very well, in that case I'll suspend your punishment with your father's battery collection." The twins released a sigh of relief at those words. "However, you'll have to help him with his new hobby...collecting stickers..."

The twin's eyes popped out of their sockets, as they mouth dropped in shock. A long wail emerged from their lips, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."


	9. The Gathering

**Seductive Darkness**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer**: No, I do not own HP.

* * *

The darkness blazed mysterious about the shadows, as it shone like a torch of pure black light. Such light was cruel, unforgiving, and dreary for it was often associated with death. An icy aura of power permeated the atmosphere of the enclosed throne room. Not the type power that most of the wizarding folk were familiar with, but rather the kind that struck fear into the hearts of all. Under different circumstances, one might have actually noticed the sparkling onyx tiles that embedded the floor. Or the masterfully crafted spiraled ivory throne that stretched out towards the brilliantly shinning night sky. Then again, it wasn't time for their reveling...not yet... 

A dark shape lounged aristocratically upon the throne with a large misty crystal floating above it's open palms. The creature's head was bowed over the diaphanous solid as harsh grated sounds emerged from beneath it's hood. A slow cruel smile traced it's face, as it stared down towards the crystal...waiting...

...just like a snake...like it's done for decades...waiting patiently for the perfect time to strike...

An image of a scrawny dark haired boy flashed across the surface of the crystal before it disappeared just as quickly. The creature raised it's decayed hand and began stroking the image with it's long black nails. A spurt of flaming crimson sparks trailed after it's nail as blood dripped down towards the polished floor. With a cruel smirk, the creature nicked away a piece of the decayed skin upon his wrist and watched as a single drop of metallic-blue blood drip down onto the open cut of the crystal...

The second the Dementor Lord's blood came in contact with the open bloody cut, it began hissing. Whips of gray began floating off as it began sizzling, almost as if was something was being boiled alive. A sudden blinding flash of green suddenly flashed, as a gigantic whirlwind struck the room tossing everything about as if it was nothing more then a mere rag doll. However, the creature stood it's ground without even flinching and paused just long enough for the wind to stop wailing. It eyed the crystal with a calculating look in it's eye before it nodded to itself, then out of the blue it raised it's arms towards the sky and howled with pure delight. It's part in the ceremony was complete...all he needed was the others...

A burst of unbridled mental power exploded in the air and began expanding through the entire realm. The search summoning of the other two dark elders took immense power, for should anyone untrained dare participate in such a calling...they would drop dead within seconds, having completely relinquished every drop of their magical energy.

The last time something even close to this occurred, was during the ignition of Lord Grindelwald. The man had been powerful as well as ingenious, for he had been the only person to ever survive the blood transfusions of three different dark creatures. The Vampires, the Dark Elves, and last but not least, the Dementor Lords. Then again, it might just have been that the history of magical transfusions have been lost over time. So the survival rate of such 'experiment' tended to be slightly below one percent. Such as the saliva transfer between a werewolf and it's pray would turn the victim into a werewolf. No one had ever downright survived having more then one type of magical blood inside of them, for the different blood would eventually destroy each other.

It had been hypothesized that such should anyone be able to survive such a transfer, they would be blessed and cursed with talents beyond belief. For there is a price to pay for everything... The survivor would end up possessing powers from the all of it's donors, however some gifts would be weaker then others. The downside would be that they would be slightly inflicted with the creature's natural weaknesses, but no matter what, the victim will never turn completely into said creatures. The transfusion will also leave a physical mark upon your skin, the combination of all your donors' races' crests in addition to your own personalized one.

Lord Grindelwald; however, was a special case. Although he did manage to survive all the transfusions, he wasn't capable of accessing his gifts...therefore he didn't gain much from the experience. Blood is a mysterious element in the equation, at times it could either be used for your benefit or against you. Things were always so deadly in the game called life...

Lord Dytren of the Dark Elves, Lord Kelnos of the Vampires... saluted the creature mentally as he waited impatiently for them to return the gesture. Come, we have much to discuss. Trouble is present beyond the horizon... it said cryptically.

What kind of trouble Lord Senge? Explain... commanded a powerful mental voice that belonged to Lord Dytren. You know we have nothing to do with your kind...not since...the passing of our Lord Grindelwald. We wish no part in the affairs of the Dementor Lords...

That is true replied Lord Senge with it's cold chilling voice. However, a new light has come into being...unless you wish to destroy your blood promise to our lord...you will have to partake upon his experiment...

A harsh sound grated the minds of both the Lords of the Dementors and the Elves. The line of the Dark Lord is dead it thought bitterly. We are not bond by tradition to obey you, for you are not our master...

No, you do not have to obey me, but remember that your master is still alive. taunted Lord Senge. The boy...Harry...is a direct heir of our lord. Therefore we are all still bond...by our promise...

Impossible! hissed Lord Dytren, his mind was a cloud of anger. More then likely, everything in his throne room was getting tossed about in a fit of wandless magic. Those wizards...would have had him destroyed even if they didn't have any solid evidence! Those weaklings fear whatever they don't understand

Lord Senge released a screechy growl before he mentally concluded, The boy is a survivor...it does not matter how he managed to outlive every encounter in the wizarding world...the thing is, that he is an heir of our diseased Lord. Should he want our help...he shall receive it. It is not our job to judge him, rather to help him... The Dementor Lord idly, examined his pure black nails. Should he survive the blood transfer, as well as our trials I see no reason against helping him. That is...unless you'd like to chance the blood pact that we made with Lord Grindelwald? he stated coolly, however the tone of his thought was jagged and threatening.

There was an long eerie moment of silence as the two parties weighed their choices. On one hand, should Harry actually manage to pass their...evaluation alive, they would once again have a worthy leader to lead them against the wizarding world. Not to mention, they were also bond by the pact to their former lord to assist his offspring, regardless of how worthless or pathetic they shall be. However, there was also the fact that the training and tests would be fairly time consuming and a waste of decent time. In addition, there was also the possibility that the heir shall fail completely, for even their Lord needed his entire army of pathetic wizarding lapdogs just in order to survive. And then there was the boy...a young lad of sixteen, without any form of magical resistance or allies to back him up during the tests. Truly, it shall be fairly impossible for such a child to pass...

Very well exclaimed Lord Dytren slowly, Shall the heir manage to convince me of his talents...I swear that I shall loyally follow him through death and beyond The elfin Lord closed his eyes and drew out a thin silver dagger. Thy blood of my sires I surrender to thee, the uttermost gift and curse. Blood...sacrifice...death...shall be with you... The man then mutter a few more elfin phrases under his breath before he finished. Almost instantly after, Lord Kelnos grumpily growled under his breath and repeated the blood exchange spell.

Two liquid drops of blood instantly appeared from thin air, and began shimmering with light. One of them was crimson red with a tint of ebony near the bottom. Obviously, this blood originated from the vampires since their blood type is quite similar to that of humans. Due to the fact that the Vampire's blood cells are incapable of making oxygen, therefore they have to prey upon humans in order to survive. The other droplet was a swirl of liquid gold and silver. Due to the fetish of elves and the earth, they are quite fond of rare earthen elements such as gold and silver. It is due to this obsession, that some of the elements become incorporated into their bloodstreams.

A slow hissing noise filled the chamber as the two tinted drops landed down upon the crystal. Two flashes of blinding light flickered briefly before everything went dark. An eerie silence rang through the onyx-polished walls as the three blood-bound lords waited in anticipation, their complete attention focused upon the pale shimmering crystal before them...to see...whether or not their newfound lord shall pass the first and most deadly test...the blood transformations...

BACK TO HARRY

Harry's eyes were closed as he floated about in the pure bliss of unconsciousness. Everything was so empty, so emotionless, so perfect. Without emotions, there could be no pain...no anger...no hurt. In this dream-like state, he was capable of just...existing...without any guilt, or hurt over Sirus' and Cedric's grim deaths. The boy's lips curled into a strange half-smile smile, almost as if he was enjoying this mental form of imprisonment. Most sane wizards would have been screaming with fear, or trying hopelessly to escape. However, Harry wasn't a normal wizard...no...not one bit.

The boy whimpered softly in his sleep, as if sensing something dangerous nearby. Even though he was unconscious, Harry somehow managed to subconsciously remain aware of his surroundings. A blurred fogged-up image emerged from within the depths of his mind, and flickered briefly before disappearing...almost like a movie. 'Blood...so much blood...' he thought dully, not at all fully aware of his current situation. 'Why?'

Almost before he could finish the thought, pain struck...as sudden as a rattlesnake. A blood-curdling scream tore itself out of Harry's mouth as the boy began shaking violently upon the floor. An invisible blade slashed across the boy's skin, as if it had been nothing more then a piece of paper. Crimson blood flowed slowly down from the cuts...his life's blood was ebbing away...

'No...noo...' he whispered mentally, praying with all his might that it could be something else...anything else. He could deal with the physical pain...if he could survive Voldemort as well as the Dursleys...he could stand anything...well almost anything. A distinctively cold chill descended down upon him...as it brought up the memories of his past. 'No...noo...' he moaned, as before he became a prisoner of his own mind, doomed to forever endure the tortures of his past.

Harry withered pathetically upon the ground, as he lay in a pool of his own blood. Bruises, jagged cuts, emerged and covered every inch of his pale skin. However, at that particular moment...three drops of purely dark blood descended down upon him...and merged with his own...

The three lords cackled briefly as they waited impatiently...to see the results of their 'experiment.' And waited tensely for the transformation...to begin...

Hehe...sorry for the cliffhanger, I've been soo buzy w/ skewl and all. Lol...then again, it could have just been cause I've been really really lazy. shrug oh well, I'd prefer to go with de first explanation P

Note: If you get a bit confused about de story, go ahead and ask me. I tend to be quite a random person, and love to jump from subject to subject P sigh I know I know...I'm trying to make Harry as in character as possible...however that's hard... oh yea, you'd probably find quite a bit of grammatical mistakes here and there...I didn't proof read it... - I'm sooo lazy huh? newayz...de chapter has a pretty lame ending...and such...oh well, until next time...

**Don't Forget to R/R!**

**Sadisticfreak529**


	10. Transmutation

**Seductive Darkness**

**By:** xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer**: No, I do not own HP.

* * *

The night sky sparkled down upon the deserted mansion otherwise known as the Riddle House. The seemingly bleak house was strategically placed upon the beautiful slopes of a rolling green hill. Behind the gloomy exterior was a forest of ancient Cyprus tress, whose limbs were twisted in a malevolently fashion, forming an almost impenetrable wall. Sharp, lethal thorns extruded from seemingly magical vines that brutally attacked anything within its reach. Truthfully, they were the plant version of a guard-dog; the only difference was that they were by far more deadly. Especially due to the poison that was present within its thorns. The mansion was a good two-story house, complete with an indoor patio and a lot of empty room space. It's windows faced the west, showing the colorful variations of the sunset; the perfect example of the battle between light and the dark. Only though, it was the dark that always won... Just the way Voldemort preferred it.

Dark figures with swishing black cloaks adorned with a white mask appeared from thin air. Death Eaters, the scrounge of the wizarding world; the aristocrats of their society, the defenders of their birthrights. Tonight was a special night, the air was filled with anticipation and savage delight. It was exactly a half a year before the exact initiation date of all the inner circle heirs, the beginning and end to the stated one's life. The Dark Mark burned upon their arms was an indication...a reminder of their honor, their bloodline, and their duty to the wizarding world; to cleanse the society of Mudblood filth. They might be branded as traitors, egoistic bigots, as well as murderers; however, they knew that someday everyone would thank them for everything they've done.

The eight men all of honor and prestige entered the haunting adobe of the Great Lord Voldemort. The interior's whitewashed walls were cloaked with a specks of reddish brown; upon closer inspection one would have discovered that it was blood that covered every inch of the once clean hallway. A evil looking couch lay to the left, it truly looked as if it would eat anyone alive if they so much as got close to it, never mind sitting upon it. Upon the wall was two sturdy dark oak shelves adorned with books, and other magical items. To the right, a small wooden table was pushed up against the wall and was draped with a dark green cloth adorned with silver trimmings. Atop the table was a plain white skull, just like the kind in Muggle horror movies. However, most likely it was probably real...

As they strolled through the corridor they heard multiple screams of pain and agony soar through the seemingly too-thin walls from all around them. The dark pictures of past dark wizards stared down towards them, always watching, always seeing things through their unblinking cold eyes. The freezing atmosphere chilled them to the bone, both scaring them, and exciting them at the same time. It was the fate of a death eater, to walk the path of pain and danger, forever lost in the twisting mists of their minds. The miniscule distinction between pain, and pleasure was often crossed; at times, one might even wish for pain...to be able to feel...to actually know that they were truly alive.

The mass of death eaters paused at a pair of finely polish wooden doors and knocked politely. After a moment of silence, a slippery serpentine voice invited them in. The following death eaters entered the room, and bowed down in complete reverence, as a few hesitated silently as they caught a glance at the skeleton-like figure that was positioned elegantly in the silver throne. Their Lord was truly a man of power, a man worthy of their fear; the one that would bring peace and righteousness to the pure world that they've once loved.

"Rise," commanded Voldemort, waving his hand dismissively towards them. Inhumane ruby eyes focused upon the fidgeting death eaters with predatory intensity. His eyes focused upon his twitching Death Eaters, and his lips twisted into a cruel smile. With casual assurance, he rose from his throne and prowled towards his death eaters. His smile grew as he felt their discomfort, their fear. He studied them each in turn, causing them all to look away nervously. "Welcome...my _loyal _servants," he hissed softly, as he began circling the group; like a snake eyeing their prey. "Remove your masks," he commanded, his ruby red eyes aglow with a strange emotion. "I would like to speak to...my servants, face to face."

The Death Eaters exchanged nervous glanced before they quickly reached forward and removed their chalky white masks and placed it neatly before their feet. They did their best to ignore Nagai who was hissing threateningly towards them, as she slithered in and out of the circle; equally as menacingly as her master. After all, it wouldn't do no good to be allow the Dark Lord to suspect anything of them, especially over something as stupid as angering Nagai; for by far, Voldemort trusted his snake far more then any death eater in the entire fold.

Once settled, a thin cruel smile drew across Voldemort's pale serpentine face. "Death Eaters, a new era has come," he proclaimed, drawing a surprised glance from all his servants. "No longer shall we suffer defeats from the Potter brat or the old fool, this time...Darkness shall rise, and the Light shall perish." The inner circle remained silent as they watched the preceding with increasing curiosity and excitement; however, a certain potion master remained stolid, his face a blank mask.

"My Lord, how can you be certain?" asked the elderly Crabbe with a confused look upon his face as he stared at the Dark Lord with utter reverence.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed instantly, however his voice was lazily calm. "Are you insinuating that I'm wrong?" he questioned, his face devoid of emotion. All the Death Eaters shivered as one, as their Lord moved towards them - as quietly yet deadly as a snake just about to strike.

"I...I..."

"That's what I thought," stated Voldemort, before he flicked his wand towards the shaking man and whispered, "Crucio." The elderly Crabbe released a piercing scream of pain as he began twitching and withering beneath his master's steady wand. As each second passed, his voice became hoarser, and his twitching became more violent. Drops of crimson blood dripped down from the man's tear streaked eyes, as he began coughing violently. After almost ten minutes, Voldemort finally released his wand, allowing the tortured Crabbe to shakily drag himself back towards his spot in the circle.

The Death Eaters eyed each other nervously, as they fidgeted in aggravation. This wasn't suppose to be happening, they were suppose to surrender their blood heirs to the lord tonight; giving up their flesh and blood to the darkness. They didn't expect that something so profound had occurred, something that made the Dark Lord cheerful enough not to kill them outright for questioning him. In a way, it was a sort of improvement...but a strange one.

"Severus," hissed Voldemort as he casually pocketed his wand. "Report."

Severus Snape stood up from his kneeling position, and bowed once again to Voldemort. "My Lord, over the past few days, the old fool has been nervous about something. It has been unsettling him greatly," he said carefully with a forced smirk plastered upon his face. _'Take the bait...just a nibble...'_ During his last session with Dumbledore, they had agree to tell Voldemort a bit of the truth; just to ensure Snape's safety. In addition, they also hoped to gain more information. "He hasn't been eating, or getting enough sleep; probably worrying about his precious Golden Boy, and something about Magical Storms." At those words, Voldemort's face gleamed with triumph. _'Jackpot' _

"So...the old fool is worried," he hissed cruelly, his eyes slightly unfocused. "The signs were true," Voldemort stated softly, "A child of Darkness has risen to power..." However, before Voldemort could utter another word, a blast of pure white light flashed across the room; and he began screaming...

A/N: This entire except occurs in Harry's mind, so that it'll be a bit strange. NOT A POV. You know how you could sometimes see yourself in your dreams and junk…well, its kinda like that in a way

Harry's eyes were closed as he floated about in the pure bliss of unconsciousness. Everything was so empty, so emotionless, so perfect. Without emotions, there could be no pain...no anger...no hurt. In this dream-like state, he was capable of just...existing...without any guilt, or hurt over Sirus' and Cedric's grim deaths. The boy's lips curled into a strange half-smile smile, almost as if he was enjoying this mental form of imprisonment. Most sane wizards would have been screaming with fear, or trying hopelessly to escape. However, Harry wasn't a normal wizard...no...not one bit.

Suddenly all at once, three blinding flashing of color obscured his vision; jolting him slightly awake. Harry mentally began backing away the moment he caught sight of the three tall imposing figures that stood before him. They were all adorned from head to toe with velvety hooded cloaks, as well as a few chains of regal jewelry. The one to the left was dressed with a heavy crimson colored cloak that pooled down at its feet, around its neck was a thick golden chain necklace with a strange crest lying proudly at the center of its chest. Beneath the cloak, Harry caught sight of a slippery black material that slithered about as if it was alive. The man that stood to the left was cloaked in a sea green cloak, with pale white training slacks and strangely pointed black boots. Finally, the most imposing figure of the bunch stood quietly in the center of the dark trio. The figure wore a thick velvet black cloak that possessed delicately traced with golden threads, his face was obscured by the shadows just like the others; however, there seemed to be something relatively sinister about the man. Almost as if he thrived on pain and anger, as if he was evil...

Young Heir, the last of the Grindelwald line. We stand witness before you today, not just to judge you, but to offer you a gift stated Lord Senge, the one and only leader of the Dementor Lords. The dark man casually flicked off his velvet black hood and bowed slowly, even a bit hesitantly. We ask you, young heir, will you freely accept our gift? Our curse? Or would you wisely decline?

Harry blinked slowly in disbelief. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn that he'd lost his sanity somehow within the past hour. This was definitely one strange dream...

"And what gifts would that be?"

A low rumbling echoed around Harry's mind, causing him to wince slightly. He blinked in shock. By Merlin! They were...laughing at him? It's absolutely amazing how his world could seem to turn upside down in just moments.

The Dementor Lord tilted his head slightly so that his unfocused empty eyes were staring directly towards Harry. You will receive one gift from each of us. A talent that belongs specifically to each of our different races alone The creature opened its mouth slightly as if to smile, however it only caused Harry to swallow nervously in fear. After all, it's not really reassuring when you catch sight of a gray decaying mouth with thick purple black lips that lead down to a dark abyss of the dammed.

Harry mentally calculated the pros and the cons. After a moment of silence he nodded quietly. "Thank you, I would be honored to receive gifts from you and your associates."

After another moment of silence, the man cloaked in sea green stepped forward out of the shadows, and turned to face Harry. "Young master," he stated calmly, tilting his head politely in greeting. "Allow me to introduce myself, and my...associates," he said, drawing out the last word with distaste. I am Lord Dytren of the Dark Elves he announced as fingered his hood casually. My race has outlived thousands of eons, even longer then you wizarding race could ever hope to survive. And for that, we are gifted with the understanding of magic

"Magic?" questioned Harry, looking slightly puzzled. "But I thought that was what Hogwarts was for...you know, to teach us all about magic and such. For the first time Harry allowed a dim smile to seep through his mask, "After all, that's the entire point of learning about all those theories before we practice a spell, isn't it?"

The man seemed perfectly disgusted with Harry's assertion. No he said stiffly, almost as if he was trying his best to contain his irritation. You wizards are foolishly incompetent of anything Lord Dytren lifted his arms and crossed them, and glared down at Harry, a perfect imitation of an angry school teacher. You wizards assume that you're the best, the cream of the crop, that the world revolves around your every move Harry could almost feel the sneer that was dripping off each and every word. However, you are wrong. Magic is universal, we are not its masters, rather we merely servants. It is impossible to know everything about magic Lord Dytren turned towards Harry and stared sternly at him. Yes, even us, the magical knowledge of the Dark Elves is by far superior to that of your wizarding companions; however, we do not know everything. Magic is timeless, a thing that gives us joy and happiness, power and superiority, hate and disgust The man released a long sigh and continued in a slightly softer tone, That's what I dislike about your race, the narrow-mindedness, the ignorance, and the vanity. We are all related, all bound together by the promise of magic, our makers, our parents, our friends. You wizards, think that you are so superior, just because you are capable of performing magic...with a wand Lord Dytren paused once again, and then sneer. However, what you weaklings don't understand is the fact that most people that you have classified as 'dark creatures' are capable of wandless magic, even if its only a simple levitation charm. The ones that you have all considered beneath you, are truly your superiors...in the game of life

Harry snorted softly, "If anything, I think that you're mistaken," he said coolly. "You believe that we are all bound together by magic, that we are all equal...however, isn't that contradictory to the fact that you consider us 'weaklings'?" The dark haired boy glared defiantly towards the hooded elf, throwing all caution into the wind._ Hell, if I might die sometime soon, I might as well die pissing someone off._ "On top of that, I think its unfair that you're using such a stereotyped generalization of the wizarding race. Not everyone discriminates against dark creatures. Hell, I for one, wouldn't give a damn if someone's a dark creature or not." Harry paused for a moment, before speaking, "I believe on giving everyone the benefit of the doubt; it isn't right to be discriminate someone for something they are, not over something they did."

The hooded man stared down at Harry for a moment, before a low chuckle emerged from this throat. I believe, that you are more like your grandfather then we'd originally predicted he stated as it exchanged amused glances with his hooded associates. At seeing Harry's growing confusing, Lord Dytren explained Like Lord Grindelwald, you both do not discriminate against dark creatures; however... The man shot Harry a pointed look, ...that doesn't necessarily mean that you treat them as equals. You may fear some of them, respect them, or hate them; but you'd never truly trust them enough

"That's not..."

An icy breeze struck the pair at the moment, as the Lord Senge of the Dementor Lords stepped forward from the shadows. The tension in the room seemed to heighten as the creature floated closer towards them. That is enough he hissed softly, his voice a soft violating caress across the group's minds. We do not have time to waste upon such... his bluish lips curled in disgust ...pleasantries Strangely enough, the only person of the group other then Lord Senge himself and Lord Dytren of the Vampires seemed unaffected by the sheering cold that tore through their very souls. He looked sharply towards the Lord Dytren, Complete the ceremony...

Obviously, the Lord of the Dark Elves looked slightly annoyed at being bossed about by an half-dead corpse with a disgusting scent. Very well he stated a bit stiffly. The elf lifted his right hand with his palms up in surrender, he flicked his pointer finger towards Harry and whispered a soft incantation under his breath.

Harry shivered lightly as he felt something close to knives tracing against his skin, as a sparks of silver-gold fire followed the bloodied wounds. Something felt wrong, different, why in the hell was he feeling so sluggish, so dead? Screams of pain echoed around the room, as Harry tried desperately to force away the pain. Hell, at the moment being, he seriously would prefer being under Voldemort's wand-point then to suffer any longer. Sure he'd endured enough physical torture during the short time of his life, but this time it was different. It was as if the fire was trying to devour him...to embrace him...enticing him to fall into it's mysterious depths. A tortured scream escaped Harry's lips, at the exact moment a blinding flash of silver light surrounded him.

Pain...sweet darkness...it hurt...

The Dementor Lord glanced down at the boy with a calculating expression upon his face. It was a miracle that the boy hadn't died yet, only a specific amount of dark blood could be transfused to a person without killing him. His young master had already acquired the dilated dark blood from his grandfather; however now, with the addition of pure dark blood...well to put it simply, the boy was special...different to be able to survive...

Now? asked Lord Kelnos, as he turned towards Lord Senge. He hasn't fully transformed yet, now's the best time...for the elfin blood would only strengthen ours if we act soon He casually lifted his wrist up to his mouth, and in a flash of fangs he tore open his wrist. Dark crimson, black blood flowed down his wrist and onto the floor. Strangely enough the exactly moment the vampire's eye's flashed ruby red as the slough of vamparic blood sliding towards the prone, twitching body of their young lord.

Yes...now... hissed Lord Senge mentally, as he reached into his robes and pulled out a dangerously sharp curved sword. It was made of pure silver with ivory symbols carved delicately into it's hilt, a dark ebony stone flashed dangerously in the middle of the sword almost as if it was warning off others. The blade on the other hand was made of some strange material that sparkled like diamonds in the torchlight. The sword was one of it a kind, for it was the only one capable of drawing a lot of blood from a Dementor. The creature hissed an incantation softly under his breath, as he sliced off some of his decaying skin. Blood...dark blood flowed down to the ground as it began slithering quickly towards the Grindelwald heir.

The air was once again filled with desperate screams of pain. The three Lords turned away from the twitching, withering boy.

Do you think he'd live? asked Lord Dytren curiously, as he looked quickly behind his shoulder at tortured figure of the boy. We didn't even put so much blood into even Lord Grindelwald, and he's only a child!

Lord Kelnos allowed a small smirk to cross his face. The boy will live, if he was about to die we would have instantly been pushed out of his mind. The vampire put up a hand to silence the every talkative elf as stated with a vindictive smile, The real question you should be asking Lord Dytren, is 'how much would the transfusion change him?'


	11. The Awakening

Seductive Darkness

By: xxlostdreamerxz

_whispers italized _

_'thoughts' quoted_

Disclaimer: Blah...sadly though, I don't own HP, and J.K. Rowlings does...

--

_"Who is **he?" **_

_"No...better yet, **what** is he!" _

_"No **human** should possess **our** power! It is blasphemy! The sprits would have never blessed one such as...him...with such a talent..." _

_"We should kill him...for he has the power to change the tides of magic! **Kill...Kill...Kill..." **_

Harry almost bolted out of bed the moment he woke up; however, some unknown instinct told him that such an action might not be the wisest course of action. Harry tried to gather his thoughts. 'What in the name of Hell was going on?' The last thing that he remembered was talking with the three Lords and then everything after that was, unfortunately, a blank. 'And those whispers...' thought Harry, as he recalled the previous words with a slight shiver. 'Was it all a dream?' Neverless, Harry tried his best to keep a low profile and steady breathing in order to not alert whosever else that was in the room that he was awake. He then strained his ears to listen to the curiously soft whispers coming from his right.

"What is his status?" asked a deep, obviously male voice. "If I remembered correctly, our Lord Grindelwald didn't even take this long to awaken..." He stated with obvious displeasure. "I truly hope that his blasted heir isn't weak..."

Someone gave an annoyed snort before stating dryly, "My dear Lord Dytren, surely you don't have to compare ever single person you meet with that bloody Lord of yours. The man is dead, for heaven's sake!" She than continued steadily, ignoring the Lord Dytren's glare. "But his heir on the other hand is not, so if you actually** want** a master to serve, I suggest you buckle down and** STOP LECTURING!**" she snapped loudly. "And for your own information, that so-called heir could very well be more than twice as strong as his grandfather! Remember, that our blood and the other Lords' runs through his veins, not once, but twice. Once through his grandfather's bloodline, and twice from that stupid transfusion thing that you power-hungry bastards did to that poor, innocent child!"

"Innocent my arse," grumble Lord Dytren as he turned his back towards both the nurse and Harry and began walking away; however, he paused momentarily at the doorway. "Healer Skye, please inform me when your patient wakes up," he stated in a business-like tone. "If that boy wants to become a power to contend with, he will obviously have to work for it. And speaking for myself as well as the other two Lords, the boy was a long way to go."

There was a moment of silence before Skye cut in with a deadly glint in her eyes. "Lord Dytren, I am curious. Are you and on training the lad the moment he wakes up? Since I for one, refuse to allow any one of you to...**teach** him anything this soon in his recovery stage! It is just not reasonable!"

"**Silence**," he boomed loudly, as his fixed Skye with his deadliest glare. "You forget you place. We only have three human weeks (6 months in the elfin realm) to get that lazy brat into shape before the start of his term! You must understand Healer Skye, that there are more important things at risk then your so-called companionate sensibilities. This a **WAR** that we are trapped in, and the only way to survive is to fight! And as long as that boy can still stand, I plan on whipping him into shape, and I can easily say my two other companions would agree with me." At that, Lord Dytren sighed once again in despair and seemed to lose some energy. "Healer Skye, I truly have nothing against you, nor your healing; however, I hope that you'll understand that there are times in which we have to do things that we normally wouldn't want. And training that boy so soon is one of them..." Lord Dytren shook his head and walked silently out of the room.

Healer Skye smiled fondly as she watched Lord Dytren leave the room. Even as the Lord of the Dark Elves, Lord Dytren was still pretty much the same hot-tempered child-elf that she was so fond of. She shook herself out of her memories and focused her attentions on the young boy who was lying stiffly in bed.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep right now," she said with amusement, and watched as the boy's eyelid twitch slightly. When the boy did nothing, Skye placed her both of her hands on her hips and glared down at him with a strange likeness to Mrs. Weasley. "Now look, I've been a nurse for over a few thousand elfin years, and I can easily tell that you're not sleeping!" she told him sharply. "Now, either you can get up on your own, or I'll force you to."

Harry sighed mentally, and weighed both choices. Seeing as how his disguise had been exposed, he could either a)** ignore her, and see what an elfin healer can do**, or b)** just do as she says and get out of bed, and hopefully not get cursed or something.** Harry, obviously chose to go with the later, and decided to open his eyes.

Swirls bright stars loomed above him, as Harry stared at the ceiling in awe before returning his attention back to the Healer. With calculating eyes, he carefully took in her appearance, making not of her extremely pointed ears. The Healer - Skye, looked to be around fifty or so by human years; however, she was probably way older than that. Her face was covered with wrinkles and her hair was pure white, and the eyes that were currently observing him with curiosity was a strange tint of gold with small specks of green.

"Your staring," stated Skye as she raised an eyebrow with amusement.

At those worse, Harry quickly regained his senses. It was strange though, the old healer...he couldn't place it, but he felt like as if he'd met her somewhere before...those eyes...forest eyes...

Flashback

It was a dark stormy night and a 4-year old Harry was lost in the woods. Earlier that day, Dudley and his gang had gotten bored of playing video games at their newly made campsite; hence, they decided to play "Harry Hunting" to kill time. And that was the reason why Harry was stuck in the heart of the woods, a few moments from midnight. Little Harry Potter had all but given up, so he decided to rest and curl up in a large knoll in a nearby tree and resume his searches for tomorrow; however, as it so seemed, the knoll happened to be occupied.

Glowing goldish-green eyes peered in stunned shock at him, and for a moment, he stared dumbly back, before bolting out as fast as he could run. And that was the last he ever saw of those "forest eyes"...until today.

End of Flashback

"So you remember," stated Healer Skye dryly. "I'm impressed."

Harry blinked in surprise, as his mind screamed, 'Is she reading my mind or something!' While on the other hand, he just nodded his head politely in agreement. "...umm...thanks," he muttered dipping his head slightly in embarrassment; however, still keeping his eyes fixed directly on Healer Skye. After all, "Constant Vigilance" couldn't really hurt in a situation like this. "Who are you? And where in the world am I!" he asked, feigning confusion, even though he truly was curious about the second part of the question.

Healer Skye chuckled softly, "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to introduce myself again," and then she shot an amused glance towards Harry. "Even though I'm fairly sure you know who I am...seeing as how you were awake for a good part of the conversation between Lord Dytren and I."

"My name is Skye, and I seriously doubt you'd be able to pronounce my last name, seeing as how it is in elfin," she said with a motherly smile. "I am a healer, and not to brag or anything, but I'm probably one of the best in this entire realm! And of course, you may call me Healer Skye or Skye," she said with shrug, "It truly doesn't matter which." Now, Skye turned her eyes towards Harry and said brightly, "And you are?"

"I'm Harry," he said calmly, "And I'm well, 15 years old and..." He paused for a second and racked his brain for any sort of information that wouldn't endanger anyone, "...I'm a wizard..." he finished lamely.

"Right...that's a bunch of information you've got there Harry," she said dryly, as she slouched back against the wall. "Neverless, it's truly a pleasure meeting you," Skye said, her eyes shinning sincerely.

"Likewise..."

There was a moment of silence before Harry asked, in a hesitant manner. "How did you know that I was awake?"

Skye snickered softly, "For a human, especially the Heir of the Great Lord Grindelwald, I'm fairly surprised that you don't know." When she saw Harry's mock glare, she sighed and answered slowly, "Well, regardless of everything else, your aura was pulsating..."

"Pulsating."

"Right," she said professionally. "Now, as you should well know, your magical aura flares into different shades depending upon your current set of emotions and of course, your power level." Seeing Harry's nod of understanding, she continued on, as if she was giving a lecture. "And when one's asleep, or in a comma their aura would normally be some shade of blue. When it is a light shade, it symbolizes that you're at peace with yourself; however, if its a darker shade, it symbolizes that your at some sort of a conflict or trapped in some nightmare. And it also changes into a different shade when you're awake."

"So...are you saying that one's aura changes just like a mood ring?" he asked curiously.

Skye gave Harry a strange look, "What is a ... mood ring?"

Harry shook his head lightly. "Never mind, its a Muggle thing."

"Oh..."

"By the way, can **every** elf see auras'? Or is it just you?"

Healer Skye frowned slightly, "Well, to be honest, I'm not really sure. Most elves don't possess the knowledge to see auras, since in order to do so, you'd need to have a least a moderate background on healing." When she saw Harry's questioning glaze, she sigh dramatically, "Let's save that conversation for another day shall we?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "Umm...Healer Skye? I was wondering if you could help me with something that has been troubling me," he asked politely, as he watched Skye frowned in confusion. "About Lord Dytren, and the other two Lords, do you know exactly how they'll be training me for the next few weeks?" he asked, slightly curious at why Skye's lips were pursed in disapproval.

"Well, to put it simply, I believe that those three bloody oafs are planning to give you a training course in Hell," she said dryly, as she walked off towards her desk and fished out a piece of paper from the towering pile. "Here...this should give you a clue..." she said grumpily. "Lord Dytren handed me - no, that's not right, he **threw** this piece of paper at me yesterday and told me to give it to you once you woke up. It's your training schedule."

**Schedule **

_**Mental Training with (Lord Senge of the Dementors)**_

_** Physical Training with (Lord Kelnos of the Vampires)**_

_** Dementor Attacks/ Magic Wandless Magic with (Lord Dytren)**_

_** The Art of Spying with (Lord Kelnos of the Vampires) **_

_**Elemental Practical with (Lord Dytren) **_

_**Physical Combat with (Lord Kelnos of the Vampires) **_

_**Wandless Magic with (Lord Dytren)**_

_** Healing with (Healer Skye) **_

_**War Tactics with (all 3 Lords) **_

_**Potions with (Lord Dytren)**_

_** Magical Runes Practical with (Lord Senge)**_

_**History of Magical Runes with (Lord Senge) **_

_** Origins of spells and magic (with Lord Dytren) **_

_**Mental Training with (Lord Senge of the Dementors)**_

_**Magical Auras with (Lord Dytren) **_

_**Origins of spells and magic (with Lord Dytren)**_

_** Dark Rituals (Lord Kelnos of the Vampires) **_

_**Spells (self-taught) **_

_**Illusions & Deceptions with (Lord Kelnos)**_

_** Dark Rituals (Lord Kelnos of the Vampires)**_

_**Blood Magic & Spells (Lord Kelnos of the Vampires) **_

_**Magical Creatures with (all three Lords) **_

"Damn..." whispered Harry, looked down at the paper in utter disbelief. "You've **got** to be kidding me..."

Healer Sky chuckled good naturally, as a slight smile crept onto her face. "Don't worry boy, as the heir of Lord Grindelwald, I doubt you'll have that much problems with your umm...unique schedule," she paused for a second when she found herself victim to Harry's murderous glare. "Alright, geez...you don't have to be so grumpy," she said holding her hands up in defeat. "Well Harry, as far as I'm concerned, I'm fairly sure that Lord Dytren as well as the other two can't we that bad...right?" she asked tentatively. However, Healer Skye truly had no idea how wrong she really was...


	12. Goodbyes

**Seductive Darkness:**

**By: **xxlostdreamerxz

**Disclaimer: **No I do not owe HP.

**NOTE:** My friend has convinced me that it would be for the best to rewrite this fic; hence, we have made a joint account known as xxlostmonkey where we will edit and beta this fic before jumping into the next few chapters. So enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 12: Goodbyes

* * *

**

A tall, lean boy clad in a dark gray muscle shirt and black slacks, strolled casually about the perimeter of the cave as his emerald green eyes glinted in fondness as he took in the surroundings that he'd grown so familiar with over the past five months (2 human weeks). The boy had a shaggy yet slightly messy head of black hair (imagine like a surfer's) and slightly elongated teeth which was something like a cross between a vampire's fangs and human teeth. This boy was none other then the famous Harry Potter. 

Harry grimaced slightly, as he recalled his first training session with the three Lords. To put it simply, the three Lords weren't the leaders of their society for nothing, and their training was pretty much worse then torture. Hell, what was he thinking? It _was_ torture! Each and every morning for the past five months, he woke at three in the morning to train with Lord Kelnos in the art of Physical Combat which basically lasted until sunrise, and according to the every-grumpy vampire Kelnos, Harry needed every second of it. Lord Kelnos was still of the opinion that a fledging vampire could easily make mice-meat out of the poor boy, and that unless the boy could _at the very least_ manage to land a single blow on his opponent (who were all vampires) Kelnos believed that it was his 'duty' to raise the stakes and force the boy to learn and practice some more. Neverless, Harry had improved slightly over the past five months, and had become at least good enough to fight off at least two fledging vampires at a time - which according to Lord Kelnos should have been quite disgracefully easy. His other two mentors - Lord Senge and Lord Dytren both had their time to enjoy 'training' the boy, which according to Harry was just about the same as torturing him.

Truth be told, when the time came for Harry to return to the human world, he would truly miss his three mentors. After all, they didn't treat him as 'the-boy-who-lived' but rather as a strange cross between a young master and a grandson.

At that moment, Harry suddenly heard a slightly shuffling noise coming from the bushes to his right, and instantly slid into his personal combat position, and drew out his hereditary sword. The sword was quite beautiful, it was made of pure silver and diamond and had a head of a hydra - a many-headed water snake, embedded on the handle. Not only was it beautiful, but the sword also contained a few protection spells which made it resistant to magic.

"Come out, I've already detected your presence," stated Harry as his emerald green eyes darted about the forest in search of his opponent. And to his disappointment he couldn't find anything out of place. The forest that he was currently walking through was composed of shadows, both natural and magical; hence, it would be extremely difficult for one to discover someone's exact location.

Harry suddenly saw some movement from the corner of his eyes, and instantly raised his sword and ducked. To his utter delight, the sword missed his head by merely a few inches before the sound of metal clashing echoed about the clearing.

"I'm impressed..." said a cheerful voice from somewhere behind him. "It seems as if that lazy vampire actually taught you well..."

Harry released the breath that he was holding and turned around with a smile. "Lord Dytren..." he said, as he gave the elf a slightly mocking bow, "It's been awhile since we've last met..."

Lord Dytren's eyes narrowed in annoyance, " Harry, I've told you to call me Dytren," he said stiffly. "You are my master; hence, it wouldn't be quite right for you to call me a 'Lord'..."

Harry ignored him and waited patiently for the energetic elf to finish his temper tantrum. Strangely enough, Lord Dytren reminded him a bit of Hermione. The elf was a strict believer of rules and traditions and tried quite often to force them on Harry...of course, though they consisted of boring lectures that he usual tuned out. Neverless, the elf enjoyed learning and was obsessed in his quest for knowledge, just like Hermione. However, the knowledge that Lord Dytren sought could pretty much be label...'dark,' which was something that Hermione wouldn't ever dream of learning.

"Are you finished yet?"

Undaunted, Lord Dytren sent a mock glare towards Harry before flinging his arms up in despair. "I swear, you seriously haven't learned anything from me over these past few months have you?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Do you _really_ want me to answer that?" he asked with a teasing smile.

Lord Dytren shook his head hopelessly, before his cheerful expression dropped and turned serious. Harry's eyes narrowed suspicious at the Elf's sudden change of mood. "Harry...it's time for you to go back..." he said as a sad smile crossed his face. "There is nothing more that you could learn from us anymore...we've already taught you everything that we know." Lord Dytren paused for a second before continuing, "Well...at least Lord Senge and myself believe that you are. That lazy vampire Kelnos still thinks that you're too 'slow and human' to ever adequately manage physical combat well."

Harry snorted in agreement, since in part he agreed with Lord Kelnos' opinion that as a human he wouldn't ever be able to match the speed of a vampire or even maybe a werewolf. His expression turned serious when he realized what Lord Dytren had just said. After a few moments of silence, Harry sighed, before saying, "Well...sometimes I wonder though..." at that moment, his expression slowly turned sad. "...whether the training would be enough you know..."

"...enough for me to survive..."

Harry shook his head in despair, "It's during times like this that make me wish...that you three could come back with me..." meeting Lord Dytren's curious glaze, he continued on just as softly, "...you know...just for support."

Lord Dytren nodded in understanding; however, he wisely remained silent. To tell you the truth, the elf was slightly surprised that Harry chose to confine in him, seeing as how the boy was usually kept his emotions and thoughts to himself and even more so after his mental training with Lord Senge - the Dementor Lord.

"If it makes any difference, I can tell you for certain that the moment you summon us from your human world, we will come instantly to your aid. You are our master, and for that you have our word that you will be protected," said Lord Dytren slowly, as he carefully watched Harry's face for expressions. "The time will come when you will become powerful...become a legend..." he said slowly, "...and regardless of what happen, I can assure you that our loyalty will never falter."

Harry nodded in agreement, as a faint smile twitched into being. "Thank you..."

Once again, the elf nodded before turning away from Harry. "Come...we have much to discuss," he said quietly, "Lord Senge and Lord Kelnos are waiting for us back in the study. It would be best if we didn't keep them waiting..."

Harry blinked in surprise, "Why? Is something wrong?" he blurted out, before his eyes darkened in realization. "I'm leaving today aren't I?" he said in a toneless voice.

"Yes."

A tall, slim figure stood unnaturally still amidst the tallest tower at Hogwarts, with his long wrinkly hands clutching the stone wall tightly, and his eyes glazing sadly down upon the ever bright and cheerful Hogwarts grounds. Loath that he admit, it was truthfully a beautiful sight, for the birds were chirping and the wind was singing through the trees; however, regardless of everything, the beauty seemed empty...and dead...

A gentle breeze whistled through the window and swept the man's long white mane and beard about in a frenzy, which made him look extremely powerful. With a soft sigh, Albus Dumbledore leaned his forehead against the glass frame of the window, looking even worse for the wear then usual. Had anyone actually caught Dumbledore looking so hopeless and lost, he or she would have obviously died of shock. The once "most powerful wizard in the world" looked, to put it simply, **horrible**. His ancient face was streamed with wrinkles - not wrinkles of happiness, but rather that of tiredness and stress. And his dull and tired eyes were framed with black bags, giving off the impression that the man hadn't slept a wink for weeks...

Dumbledore closed his eyes in pain as his fingers tightened their hold on the stone wall. _Harry..._ everything so far revolved around the dear boy, and...everything...was **his**...fault...

...not Harry's...but **his...**

The old man's had dropped down to his side as he turned away from the window. The afternoon light casting a strange shadow across the man's wrinkled features making it look surprisingly gaunt and drawn. The last time that he'd seen Harry, the poor boy was angry...by far angrier then he had ever seen the boy become before. Dumbledore shivered lightly, when he recalled those cold emerald green eyes glare burning him from the inside out. Those eyes were so sad...so betrayed...the headmaster shook his head sadly as he released a long breath. Tom...and Harry...two extremely bright boys who could have very well become so much more...

...one of them insane and dark...

...while the other, Harry was missing, and most likely dead...

Dumbledore knew that during times of war sacrifices needed to be made for the general good. His fingers were clenched tightly against his robes before he released them. If Harry ever returned...there would be no turning back, no regrets. Voldemort was rising and was slowly regaining his power...and Harry, the poor child, was the only thing that stood between the Dark Lord and World conquer. And he, Albus Dumbledore would be damned if he allowed more innocent people to die just because he was slightly reluctant to send Harry off into battle.

There was suddenly a blinding flash of light as Fawkes emerged from a bright flame and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder. The beautiful creature dipped his head understandingly towards his old friend and opened it's mouth to sing.

The headmaster felt his blood come alive and his magic begin to churn as Fawkes began his song. He couldn't understand what his familiar was singing, but as far as he was concerned, it was completely thrilling. It was magic at it's most basic form - something that was needed, essential; however, it was also something that was often ignored...

"It's seems as if we're stuck in quite a dilemma, Fawkes," said Dumbledore as he stroked Fawkes silky smooth feathers which caused the phoenix to thrill in delight. However, before Dumbledore could finish, he heard two thundering pairs of footsteps coming towards the door, and sighed loudly before bracing himself to meet the arguing faces of the one and only Mad-Eye Moody and Severus Snape.

3333533333

"Gentlemen," greeted Dumbledore, as he smiled warmly at his two long-time companions before conjuring two bouncy yellow armchairs for them to sit down upon. His smile lessened slightly, when he noticed the two men's pale faces, and the twinkle in his eyes evaporated instantly. "Please, take a seat. I have a feeling this is going to be quite a long discussion."

Mad-Eye nodded his head jerkily, as he moved stiffly over to the chair, and Snape did the same.

With a slightly smile, the headmaster leaned back against his chair. "Lemon drop?" he asked politely as he plopped a few of those delicious yellow sweets into his mouth.

Snape's lips curled in disgust, as he tried desperately to hold his acerbic tongue. Mad-eye Moody however, was not as restrained. "Must you ask us that _every_ time, Albus?" he growled as his electric blue eye spun about. As it so happened, after spending years with Dumbledore, Mad-eye no longer felt the need for pleasantries.

The headmaster shrugged lightly in response. "Well, its your loss."

Snape snorted loudly as he muttered something under his breath about crazy, senile old fools.

"Albus, we need to talk," said Mad-Eye seriously, as both of his eyes turned towards the headmaster.

Dumbledore sighed softly, as he gave his friend a smile. "Yes, I assumed so," he said gently, and then in a slightly cheerful tone he added, "Or else, I doubt you and Severus would have stormed all the way up to my office _together_ of all things."

Moody's electric blue eye spun about in obviously annoyance, but he continued nevertheless. "Albus, I have just returned with a report from the Ministry. Apparently, the vampires as have left Voldemort's control."

Albus blinked in surprise. "On whose account."

"Not Fudge's, I can assure you on that," said Moody in a sarcastically. "The man is a fool, a bumbling, incompetent fool." Mad-eye leaned forward so that he sat at the tip of the seat before hissing, "Are the wards up, headmaster?"

"Yes, it is."

Moody's eye swept across the room as he carefully searched for any intruders. He paused for a second as he licked his lips nervously, "My informant was an old friend by the name of Arren Shrike, a retired Auror who lives in the slums of Knockturn Alley. During the past few months, there have been quite a few rumors about the rise of a new Lord. A Lord that has the power to be as strong as you and Voldemort." Moody closed his eyes, "And worst of all, it is said that this Lord has already gained the vampires as an ally."

"Severus, has the Dark Lord mentioned anything..." prompted Dumbledore, as his lips drew into a thin line.

Snape who was fingering the Dark Mark on his left arm looked up at Dumbledore's voice. There was something in his eyes that was different, that was changed...something akin to regret. "It is true," he whispered, "Last night at the meeting, the Dark Lord informed us that a new Lord had risen. He had consulted the stars and the weather, mainly the magical storm phenomenon. He _knew_ that someone was coming, someone strong; however, the Dark Lord did not know whether the new Lord would be...an ally or an enemy." His lips twisted bitterly, "The Dark Lord believes that the new Lord would be an ally, or at least Dark." Snape let out a bitter laugh. "The new Lord has _dark_ vampires by his side, the oldest and strongest of its kind. This is a fleet that even the Dark Lord himself would be hard pressed to match..."

"What!" growled Moody as he jumped to his feet in shock. "You mean to tell me that someone managed to sway _those_ vampires? The _Lamia_ Vampires have not show hair of hide since the fall of Grindelwald! How..."


End file.
